


Study of Horse and Bull

by coincidental_penalties, watchforwalkers



Series: Pink Diamond [1]
Category: Glee, White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Art, Character Death, Crimes & Criminals, Crossover, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, Heist, M/M, Out With A Bang Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 08:52:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 59,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4257144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coincidental_penalties/pseuds/coincidental_penalties, https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchforwalkers/pseuds/watchforwalkers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the last 10 years, Kurt Hummel has led a double life. On paper, he's the managing editor at Vogue and a respected name in the world of fashion journalism. Behind the scenes, he's one of the world's most successful thieves of high-end couture. When Kurt discovers that his step-brother Finn, an FBI agent in New York's White Collar Crime division, is now the agent assigned to catch Kurt—or at least, to catch the Pink Diamond, Kurt's criminal sobriquet—he finds himself having to balance his felonious past with their changing relationship. As Kurt considers leaving the criminal life behind, his violent and Picasso-obsessed former lover and mentor, the Silver Fox, is hot on the trail of a mysterious lost Picasso. Can Kurt help Finn and his partner, Agent Natalie Beck, stop the Silver Fox without Kurt revealing his own secret identity and without putting Finn’s life in danger?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Study of Horse and Bull

**Author's Note:**

> Digital art by starkurt (raivology). 
> 
> Graphics and mix by Tessisamess. 
> 
> Beta-read by jamfig. 
> 
> Thank you to our artists and beta-reader for help make this work look so good!

“Could the best-dressed FBI agent in New York indulge me in a dance?”

Finn smiles to himself before he turns around. “Kurt! I thought you were in London.”

“I’ve heard excellent things about Ms. Lancaster,” Kurt says, his hand still lingering on Finn’s back. “And as you might have noticed, _Vogue_ is one of the sponsors of tonight’s little soiree.” 

“Are they?” Finn asks. “I can’t keep the parties straight.” He gestures at one of the larger glass trees, this one shaped like a willow, with long red glass blades for leaves. “I’m just here for the trees.”

“Oh? Not on the clock, I hope,” Kurt says. “I really was hoping for a dance.” 

“You know I’m not much of a dancer,” Finn says, but it’s more a token protest than anything else, if Kurt has already decided they’re dancing.

“I know that I taught you at least half of what you know,” Kurt counters, setting down an empty champagne glass on the tray of a passing server, then looking back at Finn. “Into the main gallery, then.” 

“As long as we can come back and look at the rest of the trees later,” Finn says. He offers Kurt his arm, and Kurt takes it with a smile. Kurt leads them both into the main gallery, nodding at a few people they pass. Finn knows fewer people there, though he notices a familiar face or two from previous cases. 

“I’ll still let you lead,” Kurt says when they reach the area where a few people are dancing. “We won’t talk about how many years more than a decade it’s been since we first danced?”

“Yeah, you still look twenty-two,” Finn says. “I’m the one who’s already starting to go grey.” 

“Is that kind of flattery how you close your cases? Is that what your supervisor taught you? I can’t remember his name.” 

“ASAC Burke? Nah, he’s not really the flattering type,” Finn says. Kurt gives Finn an amused look before walking out onto the dance floor, glancing expectantly over his shoulder. Finn shakes his head as he follows after Kurt. 

Kurt starts them off dancing, despite making Finn lead, and after a minute or two passes, Kurt smiles again. “See? Like riding a bicycle?” 

“Yeah, like a bicycle that needs training wheels,” Finn says. 

“You haven’t stepped on my feet at all, and your arms are relatively relaxed. Maybe you’re actually an accomplished dancer now and trying to hide it from me?” 

“Oh yeah. I’m taking ballroom lessons on Tuesdays, in between stakeouts,” Finn says. 

“You could be staking out ballroom lessons, for all that I know,” Kurt says as his smile widens. 

“You’ve found out my secret,” Finn says, and on a whim, he dips Kurt. 

“Oh, very impressive, Agent Hudson!” Kurt says when he’s upright again, then laughs. 

Finn smiles and brushes a stray lock of hair away from Kurt’s face. “I’ve messed your hair up now, though.”

“Not quite the criminal offense I would have once considered it, but you should still be careful,” Kurt says as his laughter trails off, his lips still curved in a smile. “Just for the hair mishap, I should have you eat that lovely octopus dish again.” 

“I think I’ll stick with tacos over tako, thanks,” Finn says. 

Kurt laughs as the music comes to a momentary pause. “Octopus taco, perhaps? Should we get a drink while the singer catches her breath?” 

“Mine’ll have to be a pop. I’m working,” Finn says. 

“Are we in danger of having the night shut down?” Kurt asks as he leads them towards the drinks table, picking up a pop and handing it to Finn before selecting a bottle of Fine for himself. 

“Just working on a hunch,” Finn says. “Strictly recon. You can party all night long, don’t worry.”

“Good to know, I suppose. Are you—” 

“Kurt Hummel,” a short, wiry man with dirty blond hair says. “I haven’t seen you in a few weeks. And who is this?” 

Kurt’s smile gets a bit less sincere as he turns to the other man. “Erik. Yes, I’ve been researching a few pieces for September’s issue. And this is one of the only men in New York City I trust completely, Finn Hudson. Finn, this is Erik Pryor.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Finn says, holding out a hand for Pryor to shake. “I’m Kurt’s—”

“—oldest friend in the city, too,” Kurt interjects smoothly as Pryor takes Finn’s hand, holding it a bit too long as he shakes it. “We’ve actually known each other since, well, half of our lives!” 

“Oh, another… which state are you from again? The Midwest, I know that,” Pryor says, his hand still on Finn’s. “Have you lived here in New York as long as Kurt has?” 

“Two, almost three years,” Finn says. 

“Long enough he doesn’t need a tour guide, Erik,” Kurt says with an eyebrow raised. 

“Oh, did I misread the situation?” Pryor says, and he finally moves his hand away from Finn’s. Finn glances over at Kurt. 

“Kurt didn’t want to spoil anyone’s party by telling them I’m here on business,” Finn says. “He was just giving me a quick break, but now I need to get back to it.”

“And yes,” Kurt adds, turning away from Erik slightly as he takes Finn’s arm again. “I’m sure I’ll see you in September if not before, Erik.” Kurt leads them about twenty feet away, then stops. “I assume you didn’t actually want to sleep with Erik Pryor, associate editor at _Marie Claire_?” 

Finn laughs as he shakes his head. “You sound like you’re talking about _Good Housekeeping_. And no, I really don’t.” 

“Hence not informing him of our non-biological brotherhood. What time are you done with your reconnaissance?” 

“Confession?” Finn asks. 

“Someone really is going to steal one of these large glass trees? I don’t think you’ll have trouble catching them.” 

“Like I said, it's just a hunch. Technically, I’m not on the clock right now,” Finn says. “I’m looking for something.”

“Oh? What kind of something?” Kurt asks. 

“You’re gonna laugh,” Finn warns.

“A marsupial?”

“A diamond,” Finn says. “A pink diamond.”

“Oh?” Kurt takes a drink from his bottled water. “You did realize this was an art exhibit and not fine gems, I’m assuming, so I suspect you don’t mean a pink diamond on display?” 

“Nope. It’s a calling card, or possibly a really cocky heads-up,” Finn says. 

“And did you find one?” Kurt asks. “I’m assuming you didn’t, since you’re still here and not examining it?” 

“I didn’t, but I didn’t quite get a chance to finish looking at those trees. You feel like helping me out?”

Kurt studies Finn for a few seconds, then nods. “One condition.” 

“Yeah?” Finn asks. 

“After we’re done, come with me over to the 21 Club. It’s just a block, and after they went back to their speakeasy roots a few years ago, it turned around from forgettable to a very classy late-night place,” Kurt says. 

“Deal,” Finn says, holding his hand out for Kurt to shake. Kurt shakes his head a little as he takes Finn’s hand. 

“So formal, Finn.” 

“Hey, you’re working for the FBI for the next fifteen minutes or so,” Finn says. “Just keeping it professional.”

“Maybe I should be signing a contract, then,” Kurt says jokingly. “So a pink diamond?” He moves closer to the tree with the oak-shaped leaves. “Instead of a red leaf?” 

“No, it’ll be small, like a solitaire. I’m not even sure we’ll find something. There’s a bet in the office about whether he leaves them before the job or after,” Finn says. 

“He? And which side do you fall on?” 

“Rationally, I think it’s probably after, but I really like this guy’s ego, so I’m hoping for before,” Finn says. 

“You like his _ego_?” Kurt asks. 

Finn shrugs, grinning as he looks up at one of the trees. “Yeah. Whoever he is, he’s got style, and he’s smart. I’m looking forward to catching this guy.” 

“Catching him, or merely meeting him?” Kurt says. “And I don’t see any pink anywhere around here.” 

“Yeah, me neither,” Finn sighs. “Maybe my hunch was wrong about the trees.”

“Was your hunch about the trees, or simply being here tonight?” 

“I’ve already been through the other galleries, but I really thought it would be the trees. It’s not his MO, but it’s his style.”

“At least you had a lovely time dancing, and get to have a drink?” Kurt suggests. 

“That’s true. I did,” Finn says. “I’ve already had a more entertaining night than I expected, though I did have a tiny little hope I’d actually see him in person, put a face to the file.”

“Hmm.” Kurt takes Finn’s arm again, steering them towards the stairs to the first floor. “Maybe you did, but he knows who _you_ are,” Kurt finally says teasingly. “Maybe your mystery diamond-leaver had to leave the party early.” 

“Maybe so,” Finn says. He gives the last glass tree one more long look. “Okay, I’m calling it. No Pink Diamond, not in this gallery, anyway.”

“That sounds like a cocktail, now that I think about it,” Kurt says. “Though I don’t think I want any pink drinks this evening.” 

“So we’ll skip the cosmopolitans and the pink squirrels?”

“It’s perhaps a bit cliche, but I quite like a Manhattan as a nightcap after an event like tonight’s,” Kurt says. 

“I usually stick with a beer,” Finn says. 

“What about a Tom Collins?” 

“Jack and Coke?” Finn counters. “I don’t really like the sweet stuff.”

“Oh, yes, there’s no sugar in the Coke part of that drink,” Kurt says with an amused snort as they leave the museum and step out into the still-stifling July night air. 

“I mean fruity-sweet,” Finn says. 

“Mmmhmm,” Kurt says, still looking amused. “So I hope your evening hasn’t been too large of a disappointment.” 

“Nah. Ran into you, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t even notice me in the crowd.” Kurt sniffs. “For that, I should call Erik Pryor, which would make your evening either worse or… worse.” 

“Noooo thank you!” Finn laughs. “I’m fine with current company.”

“Excellent choice, especially since I’m buying your not-fruity cocktail.” 

“I didn’t realize you were buying. Maybe I’ll have _two_ not-fruity cocktails.”

“It’d hardly be polite of me to invite you for drinks and not pay.” Kurt pauses at the door and raises one eyebrow as he smiles. “Excellent choice of tie, by the way.” 

“Oh yeah?” Finn says, straightening his tie. “It was a gift.”

“Do tell,” Kurt says as he opens the door.

“My brother works in the fashion industry. He’s got great taste,” Finn says. 

“And you have the good sense to wear his gifts,” Kurt says, gesturing for Finn to follow him towards the bar. “You’re still set on the Jack and Coke?” 

“Unless you’re embarrassed to be seen with somebody who doesn’t drink fancy drinks,” Finn says. 

“Jack and Coke is a classic, much like the Manhattan,” Kurt says, sitting down at the bar and raising one hand when he catches the bartender’s eye. “Some cocktails are like the classic pieces in fashion. Everyone always needs at least one crisp white shirt.” The bartender walks over, looking like he recognizes Kurt, and Kurt nods at him. “Manhattan for me, and Jack and Coke for my friend.” 

“Only _one_ white shirt?” Finn ask. “Is that why I’ve got five?”

Kurt looks alarmed. “You only have five? I think when you’re in a _profession_ that requires a specific type of dress, more are required.” 

“You gave me two last Christmas, two the Christmas before, and I still have that one with the whatchacallit texture,” Finn says. 

“Only five,” Kurt repeats. The bartender sets their drinks in front of them, and Kurt picks his up, raising it towards Finn. “To keeping you the best-attired agent.” 

Finn clinks his glass to Kurt’s. “To having connections with people with fashion connections.”

Any day Finn closes a case is a good day, even if the case is just another mortgage fraud. He’s out of the office by five with the only complicated decision ahead of him for the rest of the evening being whether he’s grabbing a slice or Chinese takeout. He’ll open a beer, watch the game, and not think about work until he inevitably starts obsessing over the Pink Diamond during the seventh inning stretch.

“Finn!” 

Finn recognizes Kurt’s voice, but he has to scan the crowd of walking people before he spots Kurt on the opposite corner. Finn waves. Kurt returns the wave, crossing the street when the light changes and approaching Finn. 

“I was in the neighborhood and thought you’d be around,” Kurt says. 

“In the neighborhood with a bag of… Chinese takeout?”

“The takeout was just around the block. Don’t tell me if you’ve seen anything nasty there,” Kurt says with a smile. “Did you have any plans this evening?” 

“Beer and a ballgame,” Finn says. “You want to join me?”

“What kind of beer?” Kurt asks, already falling into step beside Finn. 

“It’s a local microbrew. You’ll like it.”

“As long as you don’t mind if I pay more attention to the crowd than the game itself,” Kurt says. “I need a mental break from women’s spring fashions.” 

“Yeah. I need a mental break from mortgage fraud, which is exactly as boring as it sounds, by the way,” Finn says. 

“It sounds tiring, and I’ve only ever dealt with one mortgage. Maybe something more interesting will turn up on your desk soon?” 

“I hope so. I could go for a high-end identity theft or a will forgery,” Finn says. “Or another hit from our friend the Pink Diamond.”

“Oh, he’s a friend now?” 

“I’ve spent more time reading about him than I have with most of my actual friends over the last few years,” Finn says. 

“He must be fascinating,” Kurt says. “We should introduce him to some of the new designers I’m researching and meeting with.” 

“That’s a definite no. This guy’s a fashion bug. That last thing he needs is another in!”

“Oh? No more glass leaves?”

“I guess I really was off base with that one,” Finn says. He frowns and shakes his head. “He hit Versace the night after the MOMA opening. Made off with a $500,000 dress that was supposed to be worn to the Emmys. No replica this time, just a tiny pink diamond where the dress used to be.”

“Crimes of fashion, not of passion?” Kurt quips. “Or a passion for fashion, perhaps.” 

Finn laughs. “Yeah, maybe so. I probably shouldn’t say too much.”

“Tell me this, then. You _do_ still have that odd affinity for house chow mein?” 

“Hey! You remembered!” 

“Oh, good, because I did not want to eat two orders of it myself,” Kurt says with a relieved sigh. “There’s egg rolls, too.” 

“Just in the neighborhood, huh?” Finn asks. 

“One of those oh-so-darling up-and-coming designers isn’t that far from your office. Maybe she’s secretly an FBI undercover operative?” Kurt says. “Infiltrating the world of fashion writing?” 

Finn laughs again. “Nice guess, but no.”

“I didn’t expect you to tell me the truth. I’ll still keep my eye on Rosie Assoulin,” Kurt says. “We are near your building now, aren’t we?” 

“I think you know we are,” Finn says. 

“You could have moved on me, and then I’d feel quite ridiculous.” 

“Lucky day for you, then,” Finn says. “Come on, you know me. I like stuff how I like it.”

“And you know I hate to feel ridiculous,” Kurt says. 

“You know, if you’d visit more often, you wouldn’t have to feel ridiculous,” Finn says. 

“There’s a reason that the last time I visited was almost a year ago. This is the quiet research season. Fewer events, less travel,” Kurt says. “I could always invite you along to some Fashion Week events and you could call it research?” 

“Can we skip the runway models and stick to the champagne parties?”

“Parties, yes. You’d be bored of seeing me scribble and photograph during the runway events,” Kurt says. “Sometimes I wish I had a close female friend here in the city, though. I could have a lot of fun snagging her samples.” 

“Well, I don’t see myself dating in the near future,” Finn says, leading them up the steps to his building and buzzing them in. “Long hours, plus they get resentful when I can’t tell them about my investigations.”

“You told me what you were looking for the other night, though?” 

Finn shrugs. “Yeah, but you’re you.”

Kurt smiles as they walk up the stairs. “I also don’t mind at all not knowing the details of mortgage fraud.” 

“Don’t worry. That’s the last thing I feel like talking about tonight.” When they get to Finn’s door, he unlocks it and they walk inside. “I’ll grab some utensils and that beer.”

“Excellent,” Kurt says, sitting down on the sofa and placing the bag on the coffee table in front of him. “Extra soy sauce if you have any, he was rather begrudging about sauces at all.” 

“Yeah, I can do that,” Finn says. He walks into his kitchen to grab forks, napkins, and a couple of beers, then tucks a few soy sauce packets into his jacket pocket. He walks back to the sofa, setting the beers down, then putting the soy sauce next to Kurt’s beer.

“Thank you.” Kurt reaches into the bag and hands one container to Finn. “Your chow mein.” 

“Thanks,” Finn says. He opens the container and starts eating his chow mein. “This is really good. Better than my usual place. So, how’s work for you?”

“Oh, more or less the same. There’s been some discussion of having me write a weekly piece for the website in addition to the monthly column, but it could also turn into giving me more feature assignments. Either one would be good exposure and a step up.” 

“That’s great! And you’re still happy with _Vogue_?”

“I wouldn’t want to work anywhere else, really. And you? The white collar division suits you, mortgage fraud excluded?” 

Finn nods. “It does. Hard work, but it’s rewarding, and a lot of fun, on a good day.”

“In conclusion, our lack of dating aside, the two of us are doing quite well?” 

“Sounds like it,” Finn agrees. He turns on the TV, flipping to the game. 

They eat and watch the game. Finn notices that while Kurt doesn’t really seem to care about who’s winning or losing, he doesn’t act bored or roll his eyes like he would have when they were younger. Finn grabs them another couple beers after the third inning, then two more during a commercial break in the middle of the sixth. 

“Do you go to many games?” Kurt asks during the seventh inning stretch.

“The ASAC has season tickets,” Finn says. “Yankees, not Mets, but he always hooks me up during a subway series.”

“It’s always good to have co-workers and supervisors with a few spare tickets,” Kurt says with a little nod. “Admittedly mine are usually to exhibit openings or preview nights.” 

“Maybe you can come to a game with me some time,” Finn says. 

“I’ll find us a preview that doesn’t look too odious, too,” Kurt says, looking pleased. “I won’t subject you to the ones I go to solely to make fun of them later.” 

“Sounds like a good plan,” Finn says. “But no runways.”

Kurt smiles, almost laughing. “Don’t worry, men’s fashion week still isn’t in New York, so no one would force you onto a runway, at least.” 

“I actually knew that about men’s fashion week.”

“Runway Safety Awareness?” 

“Just another part of the job,” Finn says. 

“You wouldn’t make a bad model, though,” Kurt says. He sets down his empty beer and a few moments later edges closer to Finn. Finn smiles and puts his arm across the back of the sofa, propping his feet on the coffee table.

“You want another beer?” Finn asks. 

“Maybe in a few minutes. I am still smaller than you, remember.” 

“Glass of water?”

“Mmm. No,” Kurt says. He’s still for half a minute, then leans over and kisses Finn without hesitation. Finn startles, not kissing back—not yet—but not pulling away either. Kurt doesn’t stop kissing him, though, his closed lips soft against Finn’s. After maybe a minute passes, Finn’s arm slides from the back of the sofa to Kurt’s shoulders as Finn’s lips part slightly against Kurt’s. Kurt deepens the kiss slowly then, pressing closer to Finn. 

Finn reaches out with his free arm, feeling for the coffee table so he can set down his beer, then he puts his arm around Kurt. Kurt’s mouth opens wider, and he puts one hand on Finn’s cheek, turning Finn’s head slightly more towards him. Finn starts to lean back, pulling Kurt with him, until he’s lying back against the arm of the sofa with Kurt half on top of him. 

Kurt shifts position, putting more weight against the back of the sofa as he settles on Finn, still kissing him deeply. Finn feels himself starting to get hard and realizes Kurt must be, too, pressing against Finn’s hip. He groans quietly as he breaks the kiss and gently pushes Kurt away.

“Kurt,” Finn says softly. 

“Yes?” Kurt says, equally quiet. 

“This is a bad idea,” Finn says. “You’re my stepbrother.”

“We were seventeen and juniors in high school.” 

“Yeah, thirteen years ago, and that’s thirteen years of being brothers,” Finn says. He doesn’t push Kurt off of him, though, just holds his chest slightly away. 

“We weren’t raised as siblings. If you think it’s a poor idea for some other reason, I’m listening, but our relationship has hardly been like most brotherly ones.” 

“I don’t do this,” Finn says. “I don’t hook up with men.” He doesn’t move his hand from Kurt’s back, feeling Kurt’s body heat radiating through his shirt. 

“Does that mean you don’t want to?” 

“It means I _shouldn’t_ want to.”

"Is it against the rules at work? That kind of shouldn't?"

Finn presses his hand against Kurt’s back. “More like my own rules,” he says. “This isn’t something I’m supposed to want, Kurt.”

“A hookup? Or another man?” Kurt asks, his voice light. 

“Both? And… maybe it doesn’t bother you, but there’s still the brother thing,” Finn says. 

“We can address duration later, and is it really that we’re stepbrothers, or what others would think about that fact?” 

“Other people like Mom and Burt,” Finn says. “And yeah, I don’t usually hook up with other men.”

“Usually?” Kurt raises an eyebrow and is clearly trying not to smile. “I’ve held to a non-disclosure policy with my dad with regard to all hookups, dates, romantic relationships, and sexual partners for years.” 

“I’m no good at casual, Kurt,” Finn says. 

“And I _have_ known you half my life.” 

“Yeah, and is this gonna mess all that up?” Finn asks. “I’m serious, Kurt. I can’t do casual anymore.”

“I don’t think you ever could, Finn. That’s what I’m saying. I know that.” 

Finn sighs. “I can’t.”

“Right,” Kurt says slowly. “I just said I understood that.” 

“No, I mean I can’t do this,” Finn says. He gently pushes Kurt away, sitting up and moving farther away. “I’m sorry.”

Kurt watches him for a few moments, then quietly pulls back on the shoes he’d taken off by the second inning. “I’ll see myself out, then,” he finally says as he stands. 

“I’m sorry,” Finn repeats. 

Kurt doesn’t say anything else, looking over his shoulder and half-smiling sadly before slipping out the door. When the door closes behind him, Finn slumps back against the sofa with a loud sigh.

_Kurt doesn’t remember Gabe the second time that he meets him. Only after the two of them chat for awhile, and Gabe jogs his memory with a nearly word-perfect recollection of their previous short conversation. Well before Kurt knows about Gabe’s true work, and even before Kurt and Gabe first spend the night together, Kurt makes the decision not to tell any of his family about Gabe, and not most of his friends, either. The age difference would bother them, Kurt knows, and it’s simply easier not to defend it. The trips that they take together are vacations with ‘friends from work’ or ‘work-related travel’; the events that Gabe takes Kurt to are work functions or events to which Kurt snagged complimentary tickets through work. Everyone buys it, no matter how absurd Kurt thinks it must seem at times._

_Isabelle meets Gabe officially at a reception at the Lincoln Center, not an encounter that Kurt had planned, but when he arrives at work three days later, she giggles and nudges Kurt and teases him about what a catch Gabe must feel he’s landed—and vice versa. Over the next three months, Kurt learns to categorize people into two groups: the people who would freak out about Gabe, and the people who don’t._

_"How's your silver fox?"_

_"Excuse me?" Kurt says, jumping a little as Isabelle comes up behind him._

_"Must be nice," she continues teasingly. "He takes you to swanky parties, fine dining, buys you things, dotes on you, and I'm sure the sex is—"_

_"Fantastic," Kurt blurts in spite of himself, and Isabelle laughs. Isabelle isn’t wrong at all, since it is all extremely nice. As the months continue, it feels like it’s only getting better and better, and Gabe starts opening up more and more about his interests and hobbies. A few days after a new exhibit opens up and the two of them attend the reception, Kurt arrives to find Gabe painting a seemingly perfect replica of one of the Cassatts they saw at the exhibit._

_“That looks just like the original!” Kurt says, coming up beside Gabe._

_“It will,” Gabe says. “It’s not quite there yet.”_

_“Are you going to pass it off to an unsuspecting tourist?”_

_Gabe laughs. “Is that really what you think of me?” He shifts his hips back to press against Kurt. “Some kind of streetcorner hack?”_

_“If the money’s good enough,” Kurt says, putting one hand on Gabe’s waist. “I’d imagine it’d be harder to fool a private dealer with knowledge of the current exhibit.”_

_“Hmm,” Gabe hums, putting his hand on top of Kurt’s._

_“You’re not opposed to fooling someone?” Kurt guesses. “But I don’t have the right person in mind?”_

_“Do you want to know what I think?” Gabe asks, turning to face Kurt._

_“I always do.”_

_“I think,” Gabe says, stroking Kurt’s cheek with the backs of his fingers, “that you are far too pretty to be walking around fully dressed when there’s a bottle of Didier Dagueneau Pouilly-Fume Silex to open and a plate of oysters on their way up.”_

_“If you’re distracting me with flattery and fine wine, it’s working,” Kurt says with a smile._

_“Mmm. Good. I like distracting you,” Gabe says._

_“You should keep doing that, then.”_

_A little over a month later, when Kurt arrives, Gabe is bent over something, concentrating on whatever he’s doing, and Kurt approaches slowly. “I didn’t realize you were a fan of linocuts,” Kurt says after observing a bit longer. “You really are a man of many interests and talents.”_

_“More than an interest. More like a pursuit. I enjoy art, particularly Picasso,” Gabe says, leaning closer to his work._

_“It looks like one of the Picassos we saw at the British Museum. Are you doing this from memory?”_

_Gabe nods. “It’s a progressive proof of_ Jacqueline Reading _. That’s why the colors seem slightly off.”_

_“Another gullible private dealer?” Kurt says teasingly._

_“Always coming over to talk about work,” Gabe says. “I’m starting to think you don’t enjoy my company anymore!”_

_“Oh, I think I more than showed you that is not the case just last night,” Kurt says, lightly rubbing Gabe’s shoulders. “You’re so tense. Maybe you’re doing too much work.”_

_“Maybe I should hire a pretty young assistant to help me,” Gabe says._

_“Oh? What kind of pay would you be offering?”_

_“Hmm. What did you have in mind?” Gabe asks, turning and putting his arms around Kurt’s waist. “Gold? Jewels? Exotic animal pelts?”_

_“Oh, I had my sights on excellent wine and very high thread count sheets, but I admit I’ve always wanted a mink coat.”_

_“I was thinking snow leopard,” Gabe says, starting to unbutton Kurt’s shirt._

_“You don’t think there’d be a lack of contrast with my skin?”_

_“Oh, I was thinking about your skin, but it wasn’t the contrast I was thinking about.”_

_“Maybe you can tell me more about that while I’m on top of your already quite high thread count sheets?” Kurt suggests._

_“I believe that’s the ideal place for conversation with you,” Gabe says, starting to walk Kurt backwards towards the bed as he pushes Kurt’s shirt off his shoulders._

_Kurt lets his shirt fall to the ground. “All conversation,” he agrees._

Usually, Finn loves his job, and on any other day, a new potential Pink Diamond file would be the perfect way to spend his morning. He’s spent the full past week distracted, though. Even flipping through crime scene photos isn’t helping. Two couture thefts in three weeks, both of them in New York – it’s much smaller of a window than Finn has seen in the past.

“Hudson! Burke wants us to go out to the scene before they release it, and Mathieu Mirano apparently is impatient,” Beck says, approaching Finn’s desk before she punches his upper arm. “Maybe some time in the field will get you out of your sinkhole.” 

“I’m not in a sinkhole, Natty,” Finn says, “but yeah, I think I’ve been riding this desk too long the last couple of weeks. Did Burke call ahead or do I need to?”

“We’re already expected.” Beck waits until they’re in the elevator before continuing. “And you looked at the same file four times yesterday afternoon, sighing heavily the entire time.” 

“Got some stuff on my mind, ’s all,” Finn says. Beck looks at him and gestures for him to keep going. Finn shakes his head. 

“Ohh, personal?” Beck asks. 

“Yeah. Hopefully this really will turn out to be a Pink Diamond scene. That’ll probably make me feel better,” Finn says. “Did they find the diamond?”

“They did.” Beck pauses. “It was placed a lot more conspicuously than usual. It’s not so much that they found it as that its presence was logged, so that’s weird.” 

“Could be a copycat, though I didn’t think enough people knew about his calling card, outside of the Bureau.”

“You don’t know that the Pink Diamond’s not a woman,” Beck insists as they get into the car. “And no one outside the Bureau should know.” 

“You keep saying that, and I’ll keep telling you you’re wrong,” Finn says. “He’s a man.” Beck shakes her head silently. “You’ll see. Sooner or later, I’ll catch him, and you can pat him down yourself.”

“You can have first walk around the scene then. Find something to support your theory.” 

“I’ll do that,” Finn says. When they arrive, Beck almost bows at the door, pointing for Finn to head inside. Finn walks in, talking briefly with the NYPD officers they have stationed at the scene before ducking under the police tape. 

“They found the diamond right here,” Beck says from behind him, stepping beside Finn and pointing to Finn’s left. “Sitting out on the counter. They normally wouldn’t be here for another hour or so, but an intern came in early and realized that the ‘structured scarf’ was gone. I don’t know how a scarf is structured.” 

“That it? A _scarf_?” Finn asks, shaking his head as he lean over to look at the small pink diamond on the counter. “This doesn’t feel right. This isn’t his MO at all. We’re missing something.”

“I don’t see anything else that looks off,” Beck says. “Compared to the Pink Diamond’s usual security defeats, that is.” 

Finn stands up again, scanning the room. “Can you get everybody out of here? I need to walk the scene and look.”

“Got it,” Beck says, turning and going back to the NYPD officer currently in charge of the scene.

Once the scene is clear and quiet, Finn takes a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath, clearing his head. “Okay,” he says out loud. “What were you really doing here?” 

He opens his eyes and sweeps the scene again, starting at the outer edge and slowly working his way in, looking at every minute detail. On his fifth circle around, as he approaches the center of the room, he catches a small glint in the collar of a cream-colored dress, carefully arranged over a mannequin. Finn leans in close, taking care not to touch the dress itself. Tucked between the dress’s collar and the mannequin is a small piece of worked glass.

“Natty!” Finn calls. “Bring me a pair of gloves and an evidence bag!”

Beck brings them over, holding onto the bag as she hands over the gloves. “Find something?” 

Finn pulls on the gloves, then reaches under the dress’s collar, carefully pulling out the glass. It’s clear, a pale green, delicate without being brittle, and it’s shaped like a barely-unfurled maple leaf. A tiny pink gem is set inside the glass.

“Fuck me!” Finn says, holding up the leaf. “I was right. I was right about the fucking Lancaster exhibit!”

“You think the Pink Diamond managed to steal a glass tree?” Beck asks skeptically. 

“Get somebody from MoMA on the phone. Tell them to send someone in to look at the maple tree. The small one near the door,” Finn says. He takes the evidence bag from Beck and drops the glass leaf into it. 

“Got it,” Beck says, turning away and pulling out her phone. After a couple of minutes, she walks back to Finn. “They insist that it’s still there, undisturbed, and that their security systems didn’t record any disturbances last night.” 

“Tell them to look for the diamond.”

“I did. They finally sent someone, but they keep insisting that— yes?” Beck says into her phone. “You did? Uh-huh. Okay.” She looks up again. “In the middle of the trunk.” 

“Tell them we’ll be right over,” Finn says. “Two hits in a night? He’s _taunting_ us now!” For the first time in a week, Finn feels excited and completely clear-headed. 

“I think _she_ probably didn’t hit MoMA until this morning,” Beck says. “Maybe the structured scarf was to keep us busy here.” 

“Either way, I think this is _his_ way of saying hi. If it were just the calling card, the diamond inside the tree would’ve been enough.”

“ ‘Hi’? More like _her_ sticking her tongue out at us. Like a bratty kid with pigtails.” 

Finn laughs. “Something tells me the Pink Diamond might like it if we pulled his pigtails.”

“Sometimes I think you have a little crush on the Pink Diamond,” Beck says. “Or at the very least, you wouldn’t tell her no.” 

“Hey, I’m not the one insisting the Pink Diamond is _my_ stated gender preference,” Finn says. “Maybe it’s you with the crush.”

“Please, the Pink Diamond is clearly not my type. What is it you say about her, though? That she’s smart? Yes, your type.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think ‘smart criminal’ is exactly what you’d call my type,” Finn says. 

“The criminal part, maybe not,” Beck concedes. “Let’s get over to MoMA?” 

Finn nods, and after letting the officer on duty know that it’s fine to start cataloguing the rest of the scene, he and Beck head over to MoMA. He realizes he’s drumming on the steering wheel along with the radio, but he’s suddenly in such a good mood, he doesn’t make himself stop. 

“They’ll have the first and second floors completely blocked off,” Beck says as they park. “Guests are currently restricted to the third floor and above.” 

“Good. Hopefully nobody’s touched anything, but it’s long enough into the day that there’s no way to know if any fingerprint is his or someone else’s,” Finn says. 

“She hasn’t really left fingerprints before,” Beck points out.

“Or if he has, they’ve always been one set among hundreds.”

“She hasn’t left any hair, either,” Beck says as they walk into MoMA. “Which gallery did you say the trees were in?” 

“The big one,” Finn says. 

“I thought you stayed for quite some time at the opening?” 

“I, uh. I actually ran into someone I knew,” Finn says, willing his face to not flush at all. “I didn’t spend as much time looking at the exhibits as I thought I would.”

“Oh, your sinkhole?” Beck asks. “I getcha.” 

“No, that’s— yeah, okay, maybe it is.”

“You should call her and apologize. Even if it wasn’t your fault,” Beck says as they climb the stairs. “Girls like that. Trust me.” 

Finn shoves his hands into his pockets and doesn’t answer. 

“Did she die or fall into a coma immediately after?” Beck asks. “Otherwise, trust me. You can call and apologize.” 

“No coma or death that I’m aware of,” Finn says. 

“If it’s someone you know, you _do_ have a current number, right?” 

“Oh yeah, I definitely have a number.”

“Then what’s the problem? Suck it up and apologize,” Beck says. “It can’t be that hard.” 

“It’s just not that simple, Natty,” Finn says. 

“Usually it is, but it’s your sinkhole,” Beck says. “And here’s our fake tree.” 

“Here it is,” Finn agrees, looking at the small statue of a maple sapling with pale green leaves—exactly like the one left at the previous crime scene—and a tiny pink diamond in the very center of the trunk. “Something about this doesn’t look right.”

“It _is_ a replica,” Beck says. “Gloves. I’ll hold the bags.” 

“More than that. Something about the texture is off.”

“I can ask one of the curators if glass takes on different textures at different… temperatures?” Beck guesses. 

“Maybe so,” Finn says. He carefully lifts the small tree, which is about a foot-and-a-half, two feet tall, and lowers it into the large evidence bag Beck holds out. One of the leaves catches on the edge of the bag, bending the tiny gold loop, and tumbles to the floor. It shatters, but without the familiar sound of breaking glass. Finn looks up at Beck and raises his eyebrows.

“Different texture for different things that _look_ like glass,” Beck amends. 

Finn bends over, picking up a shard of the broken leaf with a gloved hand, and brings it close to his face. He looks at it closely, then sniffs it, then touches it gingerly to his tongue. “Well. Huh.”

“Hudson!” Beck says. “That could be poison fake glass or something. What are you doing?” 

“Sugar,” Finn says. 

“We’re not undercover, Hudson, there’s no need for cutesy pet names.” 

“It’s made out of sugar,” Finn says, holding the piece of leaf out to Beck. 

“Huh. Fair enough,” Beck says, backing up to put distance between her and the leaf. “Let’s get our sugar tree out of here, then. That sounds like something the lab guys would love to analyze.” 

“Might find a print on here for once, too,” Finn says. 

“Excuse me,” a museum employee says as he approaches. “Are either of you ‘Agent Hudson’?” 

“That’s me,” Finn says, standing and tucking the leaf shard into the pocket of his suit jacket. 

“There was a package left for you in the book shop,” the man explains, holding out a small package wrapped in brown paper with ‘Agent Hudson’ precisely printed on it.

“Natty. Bag,” Finn says, then addresses the man with the paper bag. “Has anyone but you touched this?”

“I don’t know. Not today,” the man says. 

“We need to get a set of elimination prints from this man,” Finn says, as he takes the evidence bag from Beck and nods at it, indicating that the man should put the brown paper bag into it. 

“I’ll catch a ride back,” Beck says. “Go ahead and get our sugar tree and your gift to the lab, and you can tell me what you got. I know it’s not your birthday.” 

“Thanks, Natty,” Finn says. Beck nods and leads the museum employee off. Finn gathers all the evidence bags, taking them out to the car with him. He calls ASAC Burke to make sure they get a team out to pull fingerprints and photograph the scene, as well as giving Burke a heads up about what Finn’s bringing back to the office.

When he carries the bags in, a cluster of agents are waiting around his desk. He sets the bags down and looks at them.

“Can I help you?”

“We heard the Pink Diamond knows who you are,” Cottermeyer says. 

“Agent Beck says he left you a present,” Sobol adds. “We want to see.”

“It’s evidence, not show and tell,” Finn says. 

Devlin makes a noise of approval. “So there _is_ a present. You owe me ten bucks, Cott.”

“Let’s see if it’s really a present and not a taunt,” Cottermeyer says. “Open it up, Hudson.” 

Finn huffs a loud sigh as he pulls on a fresh pair of gloves. He pulls the brown paper bag out of the evidence bag, setting it on top of the evidence bag. He carefully unfolds the top, touching as little of the bag as he can, and looks inside. 

“Huh,” he says, looking at the bag’s contents. 

“What is it?” Cottermeyer asks. “Don’t tell me it’s just another one of his pink diamonds.” 

“It looks like a handkerchief,” Finn says, reaching into the bag and catching the very edge of the white fabric between thumb and forefinger, pulling it up. It is, in fact, a fine linen handkerchief, with delicate hand embroidery along one edge.

“Does that thing have your initials embroidered on it?” Sobol asks.

Finn spreads out the handkerchief. It does have ‘F. H.’ embroidered on it in sky blue thread, with a tiny embroidered blue diamond design next to the letters. 

“Yeah, it apparently does,” Finn says. “Unfortunately, I have to send it to evidence. Looks like a really nice handkerchief.”

“So the Pink Diamond knows who you are _and_ wants you to have a handkerchief,” Cottermeyer says, sounding skeptical. “How does he know who you are?”

“He may have seen me at the MoMA opening,” Finn say. “We know he’s smart. It probably didn’t take him long to put two and two together.”

“Agent Jones told us to be ready to check out whatever leads you need us to,” Cottermeyer says, pulling out his wallet grudgingly. “Where do you need us?” 

“First, we have to get all of this to the lab to check for prints. If we can figure out where the handkerchief came from, that might be a good start. I’m assuming the Pink Diamond embroidered it himself, but on the off chance he didn’t, we need to check places in the city that do embroidery,” Finn says. 

“I’ll take it all to the lab,” Cottermeyer volunteers. 

“I’m so surprised,” Finn says. Sobol and Devlin both laugh, because it’s gotten around the office that Cottermeyer has a thing for one of the lab techs. 

“I’ll start pulling information on businesses that offer embroidery,” Sobol says.

“Great,” Finn tells him. “And Devlin, get me anything you can on sugar art. Looks like blown glass. How do you make it, who’s known for making it, what tools do you need?”

“On it, Hudson,” Devlin says. 

“This is the biggest lead we’ve gotten on the Pink Diamond in months, guys. Let’s make it count!” Finn says. 

About an hour and a half later, Beck calls, and as soon as Finn answers, all she says is “Meet me at the hot dog cart!” 

Finn hurries down to the cart, where he finds Beck looking pleased with herself. “What’d you find?” Finn asks her. “You look too smug for it to be nothing.”

“The bad news is that we didn’t find any prints, but did we really think we would?” Beck says rhetorically. “The embroidery, though, that was done by hand. Which means we can add an additional skill to the Pink Diamond’s repertoire, and, I think, that will eventually significantly narrow our possibilities.” 

“He’s a man of many talents,” Finn says, grinning at Beck. 

“ _She_ ,” Beck says, accepting her hot dog from the vendor. “Very nice silk thread on the embroidery, by the way.” 

“The linen also looked expensive,” Finn says. “It’s similar to a set I got from Kurt a few years ago. Different weave, but similar quality.”

“Expensive, but common enough they don’t think sourcing it will be anything but a dead end,” Beck confirms. “The only question I have now is why _three_ diamonds?” 

“I think the one on the counter at Mathieu Mirano was just him thumbing his nose at me for throwing off his MoMA timeline,” Finn says. 

“ASAC will really let you run this one now, I bet,” Beck says. “Anything else you need to pursue right now, or can I sit in the park and enjoy my hot dog?” 

“Eat your hot dog. I’m going to pull all the Pink Diamond files again and see if these newly-revealed skills of his help me with the profile.”

“Don’t forget to take a lunch break,” Beck says, then waves before heading across the street. 

Finn orders up a sandwich for lunch, more to keep Beck off his case than anything, and spends the rest of the afternoon up in the conference room with all of the Pink Diamond files, plus a stack of older files on unsolved crimes that Finn has always suspected might be pre-calling card Pink Diamond. 

He finally finds what he’s looking for in a file that’s almost eight years old, well before Finn’s first brush with the Pink Diamond. A pair of opera-length silk gloves—with silk and real gold embroidery and a good thirty carats in small D grade diamonds at the cuffs—had been stolen from the Met’s couture exhibit. The gloves left behind had been excellent reproductions, but the gold thread and the diamonds were fake. The crime scene had been completely clean, no fingerprints, the thief managing to dodge all the cameras and disable the security system.

Finn presses a button on the conference room intercom. “Cottermeyer. Can you get a box from evidence for me? Case number D2075542-04R.”

“Give me ten,” Cottermeyer responds, and eleven minutes later, he brings the box in. “Here you go. Digging into some history?” 

“I think so,” Finn says. “Thanks. I’ll let you know if I find anything.” 

Finn waits until Cottermeyer leaves the conference room before donning a fresh pair of gloves and reaching into the box for the evidence bag containing the opera gloves. They’re a good reproduction, though nowhere near the quality of the Pink Diamond’s current work, and the embroidery also looks like handwork, not machine. Finn pulls one of the gloves out of the bag, laying it flat and looking at the tiny stitches and the rhinestones. The settings are clunkier than Pink Diamond’s forgeries from even five years ago, and the cut of the gloves looks slightly off from the pictures of the originals, also in the box. He can see why this case wasn’t initially flagged for Finn to put with the other Pink Diamond files.

When Finn looks at the second glove, however, he notices a strange variation in the upper-most seam. The stitches there are larger, visible instead of the blind hemming on the rest of that glove and the entire first glove. Finn removes his glove, using a fingernail to gently pick at the thread. It gives way easily, and something tiny and pink sparkles just under the space opened by the loose thread. 

“Gotcha,” Finn says, tipping the glove so the small pink diamond falls onto the evidence bag with a muted _tick_ noise. 

All the earliest thefts linked to the Pink Diamond had been in Europe, starting around six years ago. The first New York theft wasn’t until three years later, and because he always reappeared in Europe between any stateside crimes, they’d all been working under the assumption that the Pink Diamond was European, possibly French. These gloves were stolen nearly a year before the earliest European theft, though, and while the crime itself was more nuanced than the Pink Diamond’s first few European jobs—another reason why it was never connected to the later thefts—the comparatively inferior quality of the reproduction gloves suggests the Pink Diamond was still new to the business of fake couture. 

“He’s American,” Finn says aloud to himself. “And he started off with a partner. Somebody trained the Pink Diamond.”

_Some people would probably find Kurt’s two parallel social lives confusing, but now that he’s been with Gabe for two years, he knows it was a very good decision on his part. His father occasionally asks if Kurt’s seeing anyone, and Rachel says that it’s too bad Vogue.com keeps Kurt too busy to meet men, but it keeps the peace quite nicely._

_Gabe does enjoy taking Kurt out or, as Kurt knows it really is, showing Kurt off, so Kurt isn’t surprised when Gabe announces one Saturday evening that they’re going to the 48 Lounge. They take the subway, probably so they can walk from the Rockefeller Center station to the lounge, and Kurt takes Gabe’s arm as they go._

_“I’m disappointed you didn’t wear the blue scarf I gave you,” Gabe says, his tone mild. “It would have looked so pretty with your eyes. Next time, you should wear it.”_

_“Not with a red shirt, though. I didn’t think you wanted to go out with Captain America,” Kurt says._

_“That’s why I laid out the blue shirt for you.”_

_“I didn’t see it,” Kurt says._

_“Kurt!” a voice that sounds very much like Rachel Berry’s cuts into their conversation._

_Kurt stops, turning towards the direction he thinks her voice is coming from, hand still on Gabe’s arm, and it is, in fact, Rachel. He lifts one hand in a wave, hoping it’s dismissive enough to dissuade her from continuing in their direction. Rachel isn’t dissuaded, sadly, and continues to make a beeline for Kurt and Gabe._

_“Kurt!” Rachel says. “Hello! Who’s your handsome friend?” She smiles coquettishly at Gabe._

_“Gabe, this is Rachel,” Kurt says first, nodding once to indicate that yes,_ the _Rachel he’s talked about somewhat frequently. “Rachel, this is Gabe.”_

_“A pleasure,” Gabe says, though his tone is flat, bordering on cold._

_“Oh, do be nice please, fox,” Kurt says, turning to Gabe and smiling._

_“My apologies,” Gabe says, his smile flattering, but insincere. He takes Rachel’s hand and kisses it lightly. “48 fills up so quickly, and I know how much my pretty little boy needs a night out on the town.”_

_Rachel flushes, looking away in embarrassment as she pulls her hand back from Gabe. “Well, it was lovely to meet you. Kurt, I’m sure we can plan to get together soon.”_

_“Of course,” Kurt says, internally wincing at Gabe’s rebuke and the knowledge that Rachel will make sure they get together, possibly within twenty-four hours. “Let me know when you’re free.”_

_“Unfortunately, I’ll be whisking Kurt away to South America. I’ll be sure he calls you when we return,” Gabe says smoothly. They’re actually going to the Mediterranean, and not leaving for a few more days, but Kurt doesn’t say anything as Rachel goes back across the street and they continue to the 48 Lounge._

_Their trip to the Mediterranean does put off the inevitable, but only two days after Kurt returns to work at Vogue.com, he goes to lunch and sees Rachel on the sidewalk outside the building. Kurt sighs and then makes himself smile._

_“Hello, Rachel.”_

_“Hello, Kurt! How was… I don’t actually know where in South America your beau took you?”_

_“Argentina,” Kurt says, since it’s the first country that comes to mind. “It was lovely. And how are you?”_

_“I’m doing well. The show keeps me busy. I don’t have time for dating, really, not like you do! And he’s so much older!” Rachel says._

_“Did you think I didn’t notice that?” Kurt asks. “I was aware.”_

_“I— I didn’t mean anything negative by it! He’s just so distinguished,” Rachel says quickly. “He must do very well, if you two can just jet off to Argentina like that!”_

_“He does,” Kurt says. “And some of his acquaintances have helped me with work assignments from time to time.”_

_“That must be so nice! He really is quite handsome.”_

_“I noticed that, too,” Kurt says, letting himself sound a bit smug._

_“How did you two meet? Was it through work?” Rachel asks._

_“In a manner of speaking. Gabe actually had to remind me of the very first conversation we had.”_

_“Oh?” Rachel says. “I can’t imagine not remembering_ him _.”_

_“It was at the very first party I attended after I landed the internship,” Kurt explains. “And not too long after that horrible visit from Blaine that autumn. Remember? I was distracted. I didn’t officially meet him until the next February, at one of the Fashion Week parties.”_

_“Ooh!” Rachel squeals. “That handsome_ and _he’s also into fashion? It must be so nice to be with someone who shares your interests!”_

_“Oh, Gabe loves art far more than fashion, but it does dovetail very nicely,” Kurt says, smiling mostly to himself._

_“I bet he takes you to all the museums and galleries,” Rachel says dreamily, clasping her hands together._

_“Sometimes for business, sometimes for pleasure. But I think you can understand why I’ve never mentioned him to certain parties from Ohio?” Kurt asks, gently trying to make sure Rachel won’t accidentally inform Burt or anyone who would inform Burt._

_“Oh no, I can’t imagine how you father would react to you seeing someone the same—” Rachel clamps her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening and her face getting pink. “I’m so sorry.”_

_“You understand, then,” Kurt says, trying not to wince. “And while I don’t think that if Finn were on leave, he would deliberately drop the news, I can’t be sure. And of course I think he might react poorly unless he were actually meeting Gabe, which seems unlikely for at least another eighteen months.”_

_“But you’ll tell them eventually, of course. This seems serious, if you’re traveling internationally with each other!”_

_“Oh, that started very quickly. He takes care of everything,” Kurt says, skirting around her implied question regarding telling Burt._

_“Oh my goodness! He_ does _do well!” Rachel says. “What’s his line of work?”_

_“Mmm, a little of everything. He started out in art history,” Kurt says, which is close enough to the truth it doesn’t feel at all like a lie._

_“Kurt Hummel! You’ve found yourself a renaissance man.”_

_“More or less,” Kurt agrees. “Any other questions to satisfy your curiosity, Ms. Berry?”_

_Rachel giggles and flushes pink. “So, what’s he like in bed?”_

_This time, Kurt lets himself look and sound very smug. “_ Not _that it’s any of your business, but stellar.”_

Finn would usually stay late after a discovery like this, pulling in his usual team to go through old cold cases looking for more early signs of The Pink Diamond in New York, but he feels happy, giddy even, for the first time in a week. He packs up the remaining files for the next day, slaps a sticky note on top to remind him where to pick up tomorrow, and then drops the stack of boxes on the floor next to his desk.

“I’ve got a lead,” he tells Devlin as he walks by her desk. “Tell the team to be here bright and early. We’ve got digging to do.” Devlin nods, and Finn heads on to the elevators. 

On the way down, he calls Beck, not giving her a chance to say anything before he announces, “We’ve got him, Natty!”

“You’ve got a _name_?” Beck asks, sounding incredulous. 

“Not yet, but I’ve got a city,” Finn says. “He’s not European, Natty. He’s American, and I think he got started right here in the city.”

“Are you _sure_? What did we miss?” 

“The embroidery reminded me of those gloves. Remember them? The ones with the diamonds that were stolen from the Met, not that long after Burke’s CI died.”

“The cold case we went over two summers ago? Yeah, I remember them. There wasn’t any sign of a pink diamond at the scene, though,” Beck says. 

“I know, and the reproduction gloves weren’t up to his quality, either, and it was a couple years before he really popped up on the radar,” Finn says. “Except I found the diamond today.”

“Where?” Beck demands. 

“Under the hem, at the cuff. I noticed a couple bigger stitches, picked at them, and there it was,” Finn says. “That’s two years at least before his earliest hit in Europe, but the B&E was flawless, much better than the first two heists in France and Portugal.”

“A partner?” 

“Has to be, or at least some kind of mentor,” Finn says. “Starts off with great scene, mediocre forgery, then flip-flops to a messy scene and a great fake? Something changed, but the calling card was there, Natty. I swear the fucking thing practically winked at me.”

“She did leave you the handkerchief and no one else,” Beck concedes. “Maybe the partner—or mentor—couldn’t leave the country as easily.” 

“Or maybe _he_ outgrew what the partner could teach him.”

“You think the partner’s still active? Someone we know about?”

“If they’re that good with security, they’ve got to still be out there somewhere,” Finn says. “We’ll go over the cold cases and the open investigations tomorrow and see if we can connect them.”

“Tomorrow? Not tonight?” Beck asks. “No take-out marathon?” 

“I think I’m taking myself out for a celebratory beer tonight,” Finn says. 

“After you have two in you, call your sinkhole,” Beck says. 

Finn laughs as he exits the building, realizing which direction he’s started walking. “Apparently I’m already on my way there,” he says. 

“Good. See you bright and early, Hudson.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. He ends the call and puts his phone in his pocket, heading north to the Canal Street station. He can afford to take a cab, and that’s what most of the other agents in his office do, but Finn likes the train. The Q takes him to the Times Square – 42nd Street station, where he gets off and walks towards the _Vogue_ building. 

When he arrives at the building, he realizes that Kurt might not even be in the country, let alone still at work, so he calls him. The phone rings several times, to the point that Finn’s sure it’s about to go into voicemail, and then Kurt picks up with a crisp, distant “Yes?” 

“Hey, are you in the country?” Finn asks. 

Kurt doesn’t respond immediately, and his tone is still distant when he does. “Yes. Why?” 

“Are you in the city?”

“I’m currently on the twenty-eighth floor of the building at four Times Square, yes,” Kurt says irritatedly. 

“So, should I come up, or do you want to come down?” Finn asks. 

Kurt sighs loudly into the phone. “I was leaving shortly, so I suppose I will come down and you can explain to me why my location is important. Give me five,” Kurt says, then ends the call. 

Finn waits outside the building for three minutes before Kurt exits the building, wearing a grey shirt with tuxedo-style pleats sewn in and a pair of sky blue pants. 

“Hey,” Finn says. “You look nice.”

Something shifts in Kurt’s face before he responds. “Thank you. To what do I owe this visit?” 

“Is there a place we can get a drink around here? I had a huge break in that case I told you about,” Finn says. 

“There’s a small bar in the hotel across the street,” Kurt says, his expression changing again. 

“Great!” Finn says. He offers Kurt his elbow, but instead of taking it, Kurt gives him a long look and raises his eyebrow. 

“More mixed signals, so early in the evening?” 

“Don’t be like that,” Finn says, shaking his elbow at Kurt. “Let me walk you across the street and tell you about the case.”

“I think I have a right to be like this, actually,” Kurt says, but he does take Finn’s arm. Finn smiles as he walks them both across the street to the Casablanca Hotel, and into the bar.

“This place looks nice,” Finn says, as they sit down at the bar. Finn orders himself a Jack and Coke and, after a glance at Kurt and Kurt’s raised eyebrow, orders Kurt a Manhattan.

“Usually it’s only a few tourists passing through. The hotel itself is small and quiet. Discreet, even,” Kurt says. 

“So nobody’s gonna hear me telling you about my break in the Pink Diamond case?” Finn asks. 

“Only some visitors from Montgomery or Las Vegas, at worst,” Kurt says. “What kind of break did you have?”

“I think I’ve figured out where he’s from!” Finn says. He sits quietly as the bartender sets their drinks in front of them, before continuing, “And I think it’s from right here in the city.”

“Oh?” Kurt takes a drink from his Manhattan, then looks at Finn. “Where did you think he was from?” 

“Since the first thefts we linked together were all in Europe, we thought he was European, French probably, because so many hits were in Paris.”

“Paris is a lovely city. I don’t suppose I can blame him,” Kurt says, then takes another drink, leaving his glass in his hand. 

“But I pulled a few old boxes on a whim today, and guess what I found tucked in the hem of a pair of knockoff silk opera gloves?” Finn asks. 

“I’m guessing it was not a pair of season tickets to the opera?” 

“Nope,” Finn says. “Tiny little pink diamond, hidden behind some stitches!”

“Too bad, season tickets are hard to come by,” Kurt says whimsically. “So you found a pink diamond that had been missed before?” 

“Yeah. We’d never connected the gloves to the Pink Diamond, because it was the complete opposite of his MO,” Finn says, downing his drink and tapping the glass to indicate to the bartender that he wants another. 

“Oh? How so?” Kurt says, his tone still somewhat guarded.

“If I’m boring you, just stop me, okay?” Finn says. “But the Pink Diamond, his forgeries are _perfect_. From the very first theft they pinned on him in Paris, you could barely tell that the dress had been swapped. His B &E work was sloppy, but the dress?” Finn shakes his head. “I think the only way they were able to tell it had been swapped was the little pink diamond.”

“Impeccable attention to detail, then?” 

“Oh yeah. The security work got better with each heist, but the quality of the work was good from the beginning,” Finn says. “That’s why nobody thought this New York case had anything to do with him. The scene was perfect. No prints, no camera footage, nothing out of place but exactly what he wanted us to notice, but then those gloves. The rhinestones weren’t set right, the cut was wrong.”

“Even criminals have a bad day?” Kurt suggests.

Finn shakes his head. “No, I think he was just _new_ at it, _aaaaand_ …” Finn drinks his second drink for a dramatic pause. “It suggests he started out with a partner. A mentor, I think.”

“Isabelle used to say that the best mentorships come to an amicable end and develop into professional camaraderie,” Kurt says. “I’m assuming that since you’re using the past tense, the Pink Diamond does not have professional camaraderie with his mentor?” 

“There’s never been anything since Paris to suggest he does,” Finn says.

“Does that suggest we should feel sympathy for your thief?” 

“Never thought about it that way,” Finn says. “I was always impressed as hell with his work, and to see now how much he improved in just two years? I want to buy the man a drink. Or the woman, I guess, since Natty’s convinced he’s a she.”

“Oh? Why does she think that?” 

“The couture. She says it’s got to be a woman, with the stuff that gets stolen, but I don’t think so. I’d bet the farm that our Pink Diamond’s a guy,” Finn says. 

“Do the two of you in fact have a bet?”

Finn nods his head slowly. “And it goes up by a hundred bucks every year we can’t put a face to him.”

“Quite the investment, then. You must be confident,” Kurt says. 

“Hey, I’ve known you too long to think fashion’s got anything to do with gender.”

“I’m glad I could impart at least two pieces of wisdom, then.” 

“More than two,” Finn says. “I think you’re one of the reasons I even ended up in the white collar division. You taught me to look at things differently.”

Kurt is silent for a long time, taking more sips of his drink before he sets down the mostly-empty glass. “Perhaps _I_ should have been striving for mere professional camaraderie, then,” he says quietly. 

“You could come work for the Bureau, be our resident fashion expert,” Finn says. 

“I don’t think the FBI and I would be a good fit,” Kurt says. 

“You can be my professional consultant, then,” Finn says. “You can have camaraderie with me.”

“Is that my signal to tell you thank you for the drink and leave, then?”

Finn frowns. “No. Why would you need to leave?”

“Professional camaraderie generally means a good working relationship. Nothing less, but nothing more either, so I thought you were trying to clarify some of your mixed signals,” Kurt says. 

“I’m not on the clock right now,” Finn says. 

“And I usually don’t have social engagements with men a week after they pushed me off of them,” Kurt says, almost hissing, “so forgive me for trying to figure out what exactly we’re doing here.” 

“Is it like that?” Finn asks. “Am I just ‘men’?”

“You know you aren’t. Don’t be disingenuous,” Kurt says. 

“And I guess you don’t ever second-guess yourself, either? You don’t ever wish you hadn’t done something? Or wish you _had_ done something?”

“Is this you second-guessing yourself?” Kurt asks. “Because it doesn’t feel that way on this barstool.” 

“I wanted to celebrate, and you were the first person I thought of. I was already walking to the train out here before I realized where I was going,” Finn says. 

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to make me feel better or worse,” Kurt says, picking up the remainder of his cocktail and drinking it in one gulp. 

“Natty’s been telling me all week I’m in a sinkhole,” Finn says. “I’ve been in it since you left my place.”

Kurt puts his empty glass on the bar and spreads his fingers in front of him, looking down at them for a few seconds before glancing at Finn again. “So you’ll buy me a drink and tell me about your day, and move on?” 

Finn puts his hand on Kurt’s leg, high on his thigh. “If I got a room here, would you stay?”

Kurt lowers one hand on top of Finn’s, resting it there. “If I stay, I won’t be creeping out in the middle of the night?” 

“Would you want to?” Finn asks. 

“Have I ever been someone who wanted to creep out in the middle of the night, Finn?” 

Finn shakes his head. “I wasn’t really honest with you before,” he says. “I said I don’t hook up with men.”

“But?” Kurt prompts, one eyebrow raised. 

“I have. Twice.”

“Clearly not a positive experience?” Kurt asks. “I’m not sure this is completely reassuring.” 

“The first time was at Quantico, and I freaked myself out. Second time was when I was working in the Atlanta office. Still kind of freaked myself out.”

“Okay.” Kurt’s fingers curl around Finn’s hand. “But you want to get a room here.” 

“If you want to. It’s like you said, I’ve known you half my life,” Finn says. He slides his hand higher up Kurt’s thigh and puts his free hand on top of Kurt’s. “So maybe I’ll freak myself out a little, but I’m not running, and I’m not pushing you off me. I want you to get a room with me. I want you to.” He looks Kurt in the eyes. “I _want_ you.”

“Then let’s go upstairs,” Kurt says quietly. 

“Yeah,” Finn says. He stands, letting go of Kurt’s hand long enough to reach for his wallet and slap some cash down on the bar for their drinks, then he offers his arm to Kurt. Kurt takes it without comment, smiling at Finn as he stands. Finn leads them to the front desk and books a room, and they don’t talk on the elevator ride up to their floor, or as they walk down the hall, or when Finn unlocks the door, holding it open for Kurt to walk in.

Kurt steps a few feet inside before turning on one heel. “Thank you.” 

“For what?” Finn asks. 

“Holding the door,” Kurt says, the whimsical note back in his voice, and he smiles. “What else?” 

Finn shrugs as he shuts the door behind him. “The drink?”

“Oh, true. Thank you for the drink?” Kurt says, slipping off his shoes. 

“Or maybe I should thank you, for having a drink with me,” Finn says, taking off his suit jacket and tossing it over a chair, “and for not staying mad at me.”

“Or, instead of thanking me, you could kiss me.” 

Finn smiles at Kurt, stepping close and putting his palm against Kurt’s cheek, tilting his face up. He barely brushes his lips against Kurt’s, still smiling. “Yeah?”

“It seems like more than adequate thanks,” Kurt says, his hand flat on Finn’s chest. He slides his hand up and undoes Finn’s tie, discarding it on top of Finn’s jacket. 

“That’s all the thanks you need?” Finn asks, pressing his mouth to Kurt’s, firmer this time, with a flicker of his tongue against Kurt’s lower lip. 

“An excellent start, anyway,” Kurt says, his voice soft, and he kisses Finn in return, lips barely parted. Finn slides his hand up into Kurt’s hair, pulling his head closer, and kisses harder. His mouth opens against Kurt’s, tongue in Kurt’s mouth as he tugs slightly at Kurt’s hair. 

Kurt’s body presses against Finn’s, one foot planted between Finn’s, and he returns the kiss with additional power behind it. Finn puts his other arm around Kurt, palm on Kurt’s lower back as they kiss. Kurt makes a muted noise, but he doesn’t pull away or stop, and one of his hands is grasping at Finn’s side. 

Finn keeps moving his hand through Kurt’s hair as they kiss, feeling it silky and fine between his fingers. He rubs his thumb across the back of Kurt’s neck, finally sliding his hand from Kurt’s hair to curl around the back of Kurt’s neck. 

Kurt pulls away suddenly, shaking his head as he twists away from Finn. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t _ever_ do that,” Kurt says adamantly. 

Finn immediately lets his hand drop. “I’m sorry. Shit, did I hurt you? Shit, Kurt, I’m sorry!”

“You didn’t. It’s not you,” Kurt says, still shaking his head. “Just, please. Don’t ever do that.” 

“Kurt, you’re _crying_ ,” Finn says, carefully brushing away a tear from the corner of Kurt’s eye. “What happened? Hey, it’s okay, you can talk to me, it’s okay, I won’t do that, not ever, ever, ever, okay?” 

“I…” Kurt stops and takes a deep breath. “I had a lover for… almost four years, in the end, beginning not long after I got here. The last part of the relationship was less than ideal. I always felt like a puppy being punished. Sometimes in public.” 

“He hurt you?” Finn asks. He puts his arms around Kurt again, moving slowly, and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of Kurt’s eye, kissing away a tear. 

“It doesn’t have to physically hurt to hurt,” Kurt says softly. “It was about control.” 

“I’m sorry. Is there anything else you need me not to do?”

“I don’t think you’re otherwise capable of being like him. I didn’t think about it. I’m sorry,” Kurt says. 

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay, it’s fine,” Finn says. He slowly walks them to the bed, pausing so Kurt can sit, rather than be pushed down. “Four years. I had no idea you were with anybody that long.”

“He was quite a bit older than me. I made a deliberate decision not to introduce him to anyone who might be around me back in Lima or, well, around Dad. And you were still in the Army most of that time,” Kurt explains. “The first years were very good, and I can’t regret the entire relationship for many reasons, but he got increasingly more jealous. More controlling. And more violent in general, though rarely with me.” 

“God, Kurt,” Finn says softly, lying back against the pillows and tugging Kurt down with him. “Do you want me to find this guy? I’ll find him and make him sorry, if that’s what you want.”

“That’s very sweet of you, but I think we’re both safer leaving him alone,” Kurt says, letting one arm rest on Finn’s chest. “I spent a year single after that. No clubs, no blind dates, no taking up coworkers on their offers to introduce me to people. There were similarities between him and Blaine that made me pause. I can confidently say I’ve made far better choices since that year.” 

“Good,” Finn says. He starts rubbing Kurt’s back with one hand, pressing at the tense muscles around his shoulder blades. 

“Present company included,” Kurt says, his voice lighter. 

“I would never hurt you like that,” Finn says. “If I do something you don’t want or don’t like, tell me, and I won’t ever do it again.”

“I will. I know,” Kurt says. “You aren’t someone who would try to be controlling. I know you, remember?” 

“Yeah. You know me.” Finn continues rubbing around Kurt’s shoulder blades, putting his other hand on Kurt’s lower back. 

“Now that I’ve slightly fractured the mood, perhaps we could go back to kissing again?” 

“You’re sure?” Finn asks, running both hands up and down Kurt’s back. “We can just lie here like this, if you want to. We don’t have to rush.”

“‘Rushing’ would be disrobing in less than thirty seconds. Kissing isn’t rushing,” Kurt says. “Your hands do feel good, though.” 

“Take off your shirt and roll onto your stomach. I’ll rub your back first,” Finn says. 

Kurt stretches and sits up enough to remove his shirt before rolling onto his stomach. “It is nice to have someone to talk about your day with,” he says. 

“Tell me something new in the fashion world,” Finn says, starting to massage Kurt’s shoulders, feeling how tight and tense his muscles are. 

“There are more new designers presenting at Fashion Week in September than have ever been invited in the past,” Kurt says, pausing as he makes a little moan as Finn’s hands move. “It’s very exciting in terms of an influx of new ideas.” 

“Does that mean I should expect some crazy samples for Christmas?” Finn asks. “I’m still not sure what I’m supposed to wear that jacket with. The one from three Christmases ago, or four. I don’t remember which.”

“The rag & bone jacket? Four Christmases ago, and while some people have worn it with slacks, I think you would do best to wear it with trouser-style jeans and a fine-gauge V-neck sweater,” Kurt says. “Or a very fine gauge turtleneck with a ribbed neck.” 

“I definitely don’t have one of those,” Finn says, moving his hands lower on Kurt’s back as he straddles Kurt’s hips, not dropping his weight onto Kurt. 

“I’ll see what I can find. It would be appropriate attire if you had to go to the office on a weekend, I think,” Kurt says. “Oh, God, that feels amazing.” 

“You need a better chair.”

“What?” Kurt asks. 

“For your desk,” Finn says, pressing the heels of his hand into Kurt’s lower back and making circles. “I had a chair when I first moved to the New York office, it really fucked up my back.”

“Oh, I was out of the office all morning,” Kurt says, letting out another groan. “When you retire from the FBI, you should pursue massage certification. I probably was standing and sitting oddly while I waited on people.” 

“Just don’t tell anybody I’m good at this, or Natty’ll start hitting me up,” Finn says. He moves his hands lower, applying pressure at the top of Kurt’s hips.

“I promise I won’t mention it to her. Why would I want you to spend some of your massage-energy on someone else for free?” 

“Yeah, but now that I know you like it, I’ll start using it to talk you into doing stuff like help me pick out a new sofa or figure out how to dress to go undercover as a fashion designer,” Finn says. 

“Oh, I think I could manage those even without the massage.”

“Then what _should_ I bribe you into doing?”

“I’d require more than a single massage to go to a boxing match,” Kurt admits. “I’m not a huge fan of basketball, but one massage could probably convince me to accompany you.”

“What about a nice restaurant, maybe a bar or something after?” Finn asks. “Some place where you’d have to get dressed up.”

“I don’t actually need bribery for that.” 

“What if I wanted you to come home with me after?”

“Crème brûlée.” 

“Does that come in take-out form, do you think?” Finn asks. He slides his hands back up to Kurt’s shoulders and starts massaging his upper arms. 

“Mmm. I’m sure it does. That would be the less formal portion of the evening, then?” 

“If you want it to be,” Finn says. He leans forward and kisses the back of Kurt’s neck. “It’s okay to kiss there?”

“Yes.” Kurt wiggles a little, not like he’s trying to get away, but happily. “That’s definitely okay.” 

Finn kisses the top of Kurt’s right shoulder, then the top of his left shoulder. “How about that? Okay?”

“Also definitely okay,” Kurt says, nodding his head. 

Finn shifts a little, so he can kiss Kurt’s shoulder blades and down his spine, keeping his hands on Kurt’s arms. He kisses all the way down Kurt’s back to the waistband of his pants. Kurt wiggles again, letting out an equally happy-sounding sigh. 

“Roll over,” Finn says. He rises up on his knees so Kurt can roll, and Kurt slowly rolls onto his back, his face relaxed. Finn strokes Kurt’s chest with one hand, leaning forward to kiss Kurt’s collarbones and the hollow of his throat. 

“I may never let you leave this room,” Kurt says as he tilts his head back an inch or two. 

“I’ll let you call the ASAC and explain that,” Finn says, kissing down Kurt’s breastbone, then peppering light kisses over Kurt’s ribs. 

“Deal,” Kurt says, putting one hand lightly on Finn’s head. “I’m sure your boss understands the importance of relaxing.” 

“I don’t know about that. I heard he almost never took any leave when he was a field agent,” Finn says. He kisses around Kurt’s navel before moving even lower, his lips skating over Kurt’s lower abdomen. 

“Or he found fieldwork relaxing,” Kurt says. He slides his fingers through Finn’s hair over and over. “I enjoy writing, but there’s something about being out of the office…” 

“Oh, I love fieldwork, but I wouldn’t call it relaxing. It’s exciting.” Finn puts his hands on Kurt’s belt, slowly undoing the buckle and drawing it out of Kurt’s belt loops. “You might be more relaxed without pants.”

“I think you’re absolutely correct,” Kurt says. He nods and lifts his body up as the belt slides free. “You might be as well.” 

“I’m just worrying about you right now,” Finn says. He unfastens Kurt’s pants and pulls them down. Kurt kicks them the rest of the way down, then pulls one leg free before kicking his leg a final time and sending his pants to the floor. Finn grips Kurt’s hips in both hands and kisses even lower on Kurt’s stomach, right above the waistband of his underwear, then moves lower still, kissing the tops of Kurt’s thighs. 

“That’s very sweet of you.” Kurt does another version of wiggling, his legs barely moving up and down. “This is both relaxing _and_ exciting.” 

“I owe you for last time,” Finn says, kissing Kurt’s knees and then bending one of Kurt’s legs and tilting it to the side to kiss his calf. “I was a real jerk.”

“I suspect I surprised you more than I thought at the time?”

“Yeah, but I liked it, and I hurt your feelings because I didn’t want to like it. That’s an asshole move.”

Kurt is quiet for almost a full minute, studying Finn even though his eyelids are half-closed. “I doubt you would have done the same thing if you’d been less surprised, however,” he finally says. 

“Maybe,” Finn says. “I’m still not totally sure what this means, but I know I want to be here. I want to be with you.”

“I wasn’t lying to Erik Pryor the other week, you know. You _are_ one of the only people I truly trust. In this city or otherwise.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says softly. He kisses Kurt’s leg again, then leans back up to kiss him on the mouth. 

Kurt slides his fingers through Finn’s hair again, this time with both hands, and he parts his lips under Finn’s. Finn kisses Kurt deeply, his tongue in Kurt’s mouth as he slowly lowers his body against Kurt’s. Kurt’s body arches up as he presses back against Finn, and he lets out a slightly different version of the sound he made while Finn was massaging him. Finn makes a noise in response, kissing Kurt harder and grinding against him, his cock hard and digging into Kurt’s hip. 

“I think we’d both be more relaxed if you didn’t have your pants on,” Kurt whispers, his lips next to Finn’s ear. “I think we’d both be happier if neither of us had anything on.” 

“We don’t have to rush, remember?” Finn says. 

“Maybe I just want to look at you, did you consider that?” Kurt asks. 

“Not really,” Finn admits. 

“Consider it, and then take my word for it,” Kurt says. “I’d very much like to look, in fact.” 

Finn smiles and sits back on his heels, still straddling Kurt, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. Kurt reaches up, beginning at the bottom of Finn’s shirt and working his way up until their hands meet. Finn shrugs off his shirt, then pulls his undershirt up over his head, tossing both shirts to the floor.

“Better?” Finn asks. 

“Mmmhmm,” Kurt says. He lets the tips of his fingers glide over Finn’s chest, making lazy spirals. “Definitely better.” 

“Good,” Finn says, lying back down on top of Kurt to kiss him again. One of his hands moves to Kurt’s hip, then down his thigh, bringing Kurt’s leg up to wrap loosely around Finn’s legs. Kurt leaves his leg there for a few seconds before pressing it more firmly against Finn’s legs, and his hands land on Finn’s shoulders. 

Finn moves his mouth to Kurt’s jaw, nipping it and then doing the same along Kurt’s neck, biting at and nuzzling Kurt’s ear. Kurt makes a noise that’s almost a whimper, angling his head and neck away from Finn and exposing more skin. Finn bites and sucks at Kurt’s skin, pulling back enough to look at the bright pink marks before going back to mouthing at Kurt’s neck. 

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Kurt whispers. “More relaxed now. Bare skin’s relaxing.” 

“Mmhmm,” Finn murmurs against Kurt’s neck, nibbling down to where it joins with his shoulder. “Relaxing.”

Kurt gurgles like he’s holding back a laugh, and his hands move up and down Finn’s back. He keeps his head and neck tilted, changing the angle each time Finn moves. Finn starts running his hands, palms down, along Kurt’s sides, gripping his hips and then moving back up again. 

“Maybe exciting, too?” Kurt asks in the same whisper. 

“Yeah,” Finn breathes. 

Kurt’s other leg curls around Finn’s legs, his body arching up again. “I think so, too.” 

“God, you taste good,” Finn says, nipping Kurt’s neck again. “You feel so good.”

“You look good,” Kurt says, and his hands continue moving all over Finn’s back without any seeming pattern. 

“Yeah?” Finn asks. He lifts his head, kissing Kurt’s mouth again, rougher this time. Kurt returns the kiss just as roughly, his hands stopping as his arms wrap around Finn’s back. Finn keeps kissing Kurt, their tongues sliding against each other, for what feels like hours, the two of them holding each other tightly. 

Kurt’s hands slowly make their way down Finn’s back as the two of them kiss, lingering on his shoulder blades, then mid-back, then barely above the waistband of his pants, and Kurt leaves them there longer before sliding his hands onto Finn’s ass, not squeezing his hands or flexing his fingers. 

Finn lifts his head again, staring down into Kurt’s eyes. “Pants off?” he asks. 

“Yes, please,” Kurt says, smiling as he gently squeezes both of his hands. 

Finn rolls off of Kurt, undoing his belt and pants, shoving them off and kicking them away before grabbing Kurt around the waist and pulling Kurt on top of him. Kurt laughs, wiggling a little and putting his hands down on Finn’s chest. 

“Good?” Finn asks. 

Kurt nods. “Very good.” 

“What do you want? What do you like?” Finn asks, looking up at Kurt. “What can I do for you?”

“What do _you_ like?” Kurt counters. “What have you been thinking about for the past week?” 

“I don’t really know what I like. Not with men. Not with _you_. I just like touching you and kissing you. I just want more of you.”

“How do you want to feel in the morning or later tomorrow?” Kurt asks, his index fingers drawing circles around, but not touching, Finn’s nipples. “How much more of me? All? Everything?” 

“Everything,” Finn says. “I want to touch you everywhere. I want to taste you everywhere.” 

“I want that, too,” Kurt says as he smiles at Finn.

“Tell me what you like so I can keep doing it,” Finn says, leaning up to kiss Kurt. 

“I don’t need anything fancy,” Kurt says, his smile widening and his hand in Finn’s hair. “I like you, and kissing you, and touching you.” 

“Good,” Finn says. He runs his hands down Kurt’s back, cupping Kurt’s ass in both hands and pulling him closer. Finn starts kissing Kurt’s neck and shoulder again, licking and nibbling at Kurt’s skin. Kurt almost jumps suddenly, laughing at the same time. “Does it tickle?” Finn asks him. 

“Yes!” Kurt says, still laughing as his head and shoulders move. Finn nips at a few spots on Kurt’s shoulder again, trying to find the exact spot. Kurt yelps and wiggles. “You’re so cruel,” he gets out between laughs. 

“Oh, so you _don’t_ want me to do that?” Finn asks. 

“I want you to be very, very nice!” 

“So, that’s no tickling or yes tickling?” Finn asks, lightly kissing the ticklish spot on Kurt’s shoulder. “Or tickling _and_.”

“And? And what?” 

Finn returns to the spot on Kurt’s shoulder, biting and sucking it as he squeezes Kurt’s ass, grinding up against him. Kurt’s laughter dies off and he tilts his head even more to the side as he presses down against Finn with what feels like his full weight. 

“You like the ‘and’?” Finn asks, in between kisses and bites to Kurt’s shoulder. 

“I like the ‘and’,” Kurt concedes. “Feel free to add as many ‘ands’ as you want.” 

Finn laughs and rolls them back over, so he’s on top of Kurt, pinning him down, and immediately goes back to licking, biting, and sucking at Kurt’s skin, starting to work his way down Kurt’s chest. He nips Kurt’s collarbones and kisses down to Kurt’s left nipple, sucking it into his mouth. 

“I’m going to have to make sure I keep tasting good, hmm?” Kurt says, all of his fingers sliding through Finn’s hair rhythmically and repeatedly. 

Finn hums “mmhmm” as he flicks his tongue against Kurt’s nipple a few times, before kissing over to Kurt’s right nipple and doing the same. He runs one hand along Kurt’s side to his hip, then back up, like he’s petting Kurt. 

Kurt’s chest arches up, and one hand slides down the middle of Finn’s back while the fingers on his other hand clutch at Finn’s hair. “Maybe it’s the strawberries I’ve been eating. Do I taste like strawberries?” he asks. 

Finn shakes his head, worrying at Kurt’s nipple before briefly stopping to say, “No, you taste like Kurt,” and then lowering his mouth to Kurt’s nipple again. Kurt’s hand keeps moving downward, pausing briefly at the waistband of Finn’s underwear before slipping his fingers barely under it. Finn gently bites Kurt’s nipple before releasing it to kiss and lick down Kurt’s stomach, hooking his thumbs in Kurt’s underwear. 

“This is good?” Finn asks. Kurt nods, smiling up at Finn. Finn tugs Kurt’s underwear down with his thumb, biting Kurt’s hips, first the left and then the right. He moves lower, nudging Kurt’s inner thigh with his nose before kissing there too, and just barely grazing the skin with his teeth. 

“Still no strawberries?” Kurt says, his voice very slightly strained. 

“Mmhmm. Still just Kurt,” Finn says. “But that’s better, anyway.” He switches sides, letting his lips just barely brush over Kurt’s cock as he moves them to Kurt’s other thigh. 

“Better than— Finn,” Kurt whines. “Better than strawberries is good.” 

“Do you want something?” Finn asks, kissing high on Kurt’s inner thigh, right where it meets his groin, then biting lightly. 

“I was right earlier. You are cruel,” Kurt says, his hips and legs wiggling in place. 

Finn shakes his head, brushing against Kurt’s cock again. “No, I’m not. I’m really nice.”

“Finn,” Kurt whines again. “Prove it.” 

“Okay,” Finn say, shifting position so he can kiss the tip of Kurt’s cock, then lick the head. Kurt wiggles again, arching his hips off the bed towards Finn. Finn takes the head into his mouth, continuing to lick as he moves his mouth down Kurt’s cock. 

“Finn,” Kurt says, less whiny than before, and he puts both hands on Finn’s head again. Finn takes Kurt’s cock in deeper, licking and sucking, holding Kurt’s hips in his hands. Kurt starts to let out a moan, cutting it off as his hips move up again. Finn presses down on Kurt’s hips, pinning them to the mattress while he sucks Kurt’s cock, occasionally looking up at Kurt to watch his face. 

Kurt’s eyes are half-closed again, fixed on Finn, and his face is slightly flushed. His lips are parted and curved into a smile, and when Finn looks up, his smile widens. Finn smiles back as much as he can around Kurt’s cock. He keeps sucking and licking, pinning Kurt down, until Kurt whines again. 

“Finn,” Kurt says, his voice low. “Finn, I’m close.” 

Finn nods without slowing down, curling his hands around Kurt’s hipbones and bobbing his head, lapping Kurt with his tongue and taking him as deep in his mouth as he can. Kurt brings his hips up before letting out a long moan and starting to come. Finn swallows around Kurt’s cock, slowly pulling back and licking Kurt clean. 

“Yeah, you taste good all over,” Finn says, sitting back a little to look at Kurt. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“Why thank you,” Kurt says, his voice somewhat slow and lazy. 

“You’re welcome,” Finn says, crawling back up the bed to lie half on top of Kurt and kiss his neck again. Kurt tilts his head again, smiling. 

“Are you going to let me keep looking in a few more minutes?” 

“Sure, if you want to,” Finn says, his lips touching Kurt’s neck. “As long as you don’t mind if I keep kissing you like this.”

“Oh, yes, a horrible hardship,” Kurt says. “Truly awful, even.” 

“I could just go, if it’s too awful,” Finn says. 

“Go where? A different ticklish spot?” 

“Oh, so there’s more of them, huh?”

Kurt frowns briefly. “No?” 

“I think you’re lying,” Finn says, running his hand over Kurt’s chest. “What else are you lying to me about?”

“I actually like a merlot better than a cabernet,” Kurt says. 

“So many secrets,” Finn says. He presses his body to Kurt’s, his cock against Kurt’s thigh, straining at his underwear. 

“I once accidentally left a bar without paying. Do you have to arrest me?” Kurt says playfully. “And does it make any difference if I went back the next day to pay?” 

“I can probably let it slide this once,” Finn says. “Was it here in the city?”

“It was. It really was a misunderstanding. The person I was meeting for drinks thought I was covering the bill, and vice versa,” Kurt continues, looking contrite. “Oh! But maybe I’ve passed the statute of limitations?” 

“I’m not actually sure what the statute of limitations would be on a dine-and-dash, but as long as you went back and made it right, there’s nothing I could charge you with anyway.”

“Being absent-minded and a bit confused, maybe,” Kurt says. “What about you? What dreadful lies are you concealing?” 

“I already admitted the thing about hooking up with men,” Finn says. “And I kinda-sorta might’ve inadvertently stolen a piece of evidence the other day.”

“Oh? That’s more exciting than a parking ticket. How do you inadvertently steal evidence?”

“A piece of it hit the floor and I picked up part of it. Stuck it in my pocket and didn’t think about it until I got home. It was one of those trees, actually, from the Lancaster exhibit!”

“A… piece of glass?” Kurt asks. “And I thought… you didn’t find a diamond there.” 

“He must’ve come back after we left,” Finn says. “The maple sapling had a pink diamond embedded in the center of the trunk, only that tree wasn’t actually made of glass.”

“What was it made of, then? Resin?” 

“Sugar! One of the gold loops that held the leaves on bent, and a leaf fell off and hit the floor. When it broke, I realized it wasn’t glass at all. So I, uh. Licked it,” Finn admits. 

“Finn! What if it had been something inedible or even poisonous?” 

“Yeah, Natty kind of freaked out, too, but it was just sugar. Beautiful work, I mean. I haven’t ever seen anything like it,” Finn says. “But that’s how I ended up with part of a green blown sugar maple leaf on my shelf.”

“In case you need a snack?”

“Nah. Just to keep the Pink Diamond fresh in my mind. It’s the only thing from the case I’ve brought home, but I’ve been after him for close to three years. He’s the reason I got assigned to New York white collar. It’s nice to have a, I don’t know, souvenir or memento, I guess.”

“I almost feel like I should be a bit jealous,” Kurt teases. “You should leave him a note somewhere.” 

“See, the whole point of knowing where he’s going to be would be so we can arrest him, not so I can leave him a note,” Finn says. “I’ll have plenty of time to talk to him when we bring him in.”

“Multiple notes, then. And what will you do if you succeed? Afterwards, I mean. It seems like you might be bored.” 

“There’ll always be more cases, but yeah, I probably won’t get another one like him. He’s special.”

“You’ll miss looking for him, won’t you?” 

“Well, I haven’t caught him yet,” Finn says. “Anyway, I’m thinking about _you_ , right now, not the Pink Diamond.”

“You found me,” Kurt says, smiling widely. 

“Was I chasing you, too?” Finn teases. 

“You were concerned about whether I was even in the country, after all.” 

“So I caught you?”

“Admittedly, I came rather willingly, didn’t I?” Kurt laughs. “But you have captured me this evening.” 

“What should I do with you now, do you think?” Finn asks. “It’s still early. We’d barely be into the interrogation at this point.”

“I think you should let me get that full look at you now, actually.” 

Finn rolls off Kurt, laughing. “Help yourself,” he says, gesturing down at his body. Kurt looks smug as he reaches for the waistband of Finn’s underwear, his thumbs hooking under it before he begins slowly pulling them down. 

“Oh, I definitely will, don’t worry about _that_ ,” Kurt says, moving down the bed parallel to Finn’s legs as he pulls Finn’s underwear free and tosses it aside. Finn smiles, feeling a little self-conscious.

“So I guess you can look at me now,” Finn says. 

“I am,” Kurt says, sliding his fingers up Finn’s legs and then resting his hands on Finn’s hips. “It’s very enjoyable, I must say.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mmmhmm.” Kurt moves back on top of Finn again, not quite lowering his weight, and he leans forward to kiss Finn. “Definitely. What do _you_ like?” 

“I liked tasting you,” Finn says. “I really liked sucking your cock.”

“Oh? That’s good to know, but right now I think we should do things involving _your_ cock,” Kurt says. “Do you want me to return the favor? Or did you want to fuck me?” 

“Shit. Yes, I want to fuck you,” Finn says, kissing Kurt again. 

“Good,” Kurt says, lowering himself onto Finn and leaning forward. “I was hoping for that answer. I don’t… I don’t technically have anything with me, but I do have hypoallergenic lotion in my bag.” 

“Yeah, I don’t have anything, either,” Finn admits. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. I mean, I had my physical back in March, blood work and all of that, but I understand if you want to wait until we can get condoms.”

“It’s only been a couple of months for me. I never quite lost the habit of going around my birthday,” Kurt admits. “I don’t feel the need to wait if you don’t.” 

“I trust you and you trust me, remember?” Finn says. “I’m good if you are.”

“I’m good,” Kurt agrees. “Give me one second.” He slides off Finn and the bed, going to his bag before returning to the bed, setting a small bottle of lotion on the table next to the bed. “Okay.” Kurt straddles Finn again, smiling. Finn puts his hands on Kurt’s hips, looking up at him.

“You’re sure about this?” Finn asks. “Like I said, I’m no good at casual, and I’m not anything special. You kind of get what you get with me.”

Kurt raises his eyebrows at ‘nothing special’, but he doesn’t argue that point. “I waited outside the FBI with a bag of Chinese takeout.” 

“Yeah, but that’s dinner. That’s not you stuck with me.”

“I think you’re arguing semantics now. I’m sure.” 

“Okay,” Finn says. “It’s just, I’m not a fashionable guy. The stuff I know about art is all based around who’s stolen it or forged it. You know me. I didn’t want you to forget that.”

“I _do_ know you, and I could regale you with stories and philosophical musings of exactly why none of that matters except in a positive sense, but if you’ll just accept my reassurances, we could save that for some other time?” Kurt raises an eyebrow questioningly, still smiling. 

“Okay. I believe you,” Finn says. He squeezes Kurt’s hips, then moves one hand around to Kurt’s cock, starting to stroke him hard again. 

“Good. You should.” Kurt leans down, kissing Finn softly with his lips barely parted. Finn moves his hand faster, in long, rough strokes. Kurt barely moves his hips, his cock sliding forward into Finn’s hand. He kisses Finn more deeply, one hand on the side of Finn’s face and the other resting just beside Finn’s shoulder. 

Finn lets the kiss continue for a few long minutes, then he pulls away, biting at Kurt’s lower lip before reaching for the bottle of lotion. He strokes Kurt’s cock another few times before moving his hand away, dumping some lotion onto his fingers.

“Lift up a little,” Finn says. Kurt shifts his weight, lifting his hips so there’s a small amount of space between them. Finn slides his hand under Kurt, touching a fingertip to Kurt’s ass and carefully sliding it inside. 

Kurt moves his shoulders a little, making the rest of his torso and hips shift. “Should I drop back down a little?” 

“Yeah, can you move?” Finn asks. “This is really hot.”

“You mean like this?” Kurt says, his eyebrow going up again for a few seconds before he lowers himself onto Finn’s finger. He pauses for another moment, then moves up, finding a slow rhythm as he slides up and down on Finn’s finger. 

“Shit, yeah, like that, fucking yourself on my finger,” Finn says. 

“You like that,” Kurt says, not really asking. “Is two fingers better?” 

“It is from my end,” Finn say, pressing a second finger up into Kurt. “God, you’re so hot and tight, Kurt.”

Kurt moves a little faster and slides closer to Finn’s hand than before, his hands on Finn’s chest. “And in a few moments, that’s going to be your cock instead.” 

“Fuck. Yes. I want you to ride me,” Finn say, pushing his fingers up into Kurt as Kurt lowers himself down on them. 

“Now?”

“Yes,” Finn says. He slips his fingers out of Kurt and grabs the lotion bottle again, dumping more onto his palm and reaching down to wrap his hand around his cock, stroking it until it’s slick. He holds it at the base, looking up at Kurt. “Now.”

Kurt smiles, slowly lowering himself down onto Finn’s cock, pausing very briefly while Finn moves his hand and not stopping fully until he’s almost sitting on Finn. “Like that?” he asks, a little bit smug. 

“Just like that. It’s perfect,” Finn says. He grabs Kurt by the hips again, lifting his own hips to thrust just barely upward. “You feel so good on me.”

“Oh, it feels good from this side, too,” Kurt says, raising up so far that Finn’s cock almost slips out of his ass, then sitting back down abruptly. “You did say riding you, yes?” 

“Yeah. Ride me,” Finn says, thrusting up again. 

“Like this? Fast?” Kurt asks as he lifts himself up again. Finn’s hands tighten on Kurt’s hips, pulling him back down.

“ _Yes_ ,” Finn says. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“I don’t think you could get deeper inside me,” Kurt says, moving sideways for a few seconds before rising up and sitting back down hard. “I suppose we could _try_.” 

“Oh, fuck, Kurt.” Finn pulls down on Kurt’s hips, thrusting up into him, trying to see if he _can_ get deeper. He closes his eyes, feeling how hot Kurt is inside, and how tight he is around Finn’s cock. 

“Sometimes,” Kurt says, stopping to moan. “Sometimes the trying is the best part.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says, his breath catching as Kurt somehow tightens around him even more. He puts one hand on Kurt’s cock, stroking it as Kurt starts moving again. Kurt keeps riding him, letting out moans and hot, breathy sounds as he moves, and it brings Finn so close, he has to dig his fingers into Kurt’s hip and bite his own lip to keep from coming too fast. 

“God, you’re so hard,” Kurt says between moans. “So big, but _so_ hard.” 

“Shit, Kurt, I’m so close,” Finn says, lifting his hips to meet Kurt’s downward movements. “I want to make you come first. I want you to come all over me.” 

“Ohh. Oh, God, that’s hot,” Kurt says, riding Finn faster somehow. “Yeah, I want to do that.” 

“You can come for me now, Kurt, you can come all over me, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” Finn says, knowing it sounds like a whine and not caring. Kurt moans again, his head thrown back and he comes hard for the second time. As soon as Finn feels Kurt coming on his stomach and chest, he lets himself go, jerking his hips up and coming inside Kurt with a loud cry. 

Kurt holds himself up for only a few more seconds before he slumps down on top of Finn, his face pressed against Finn’s chest. “Stuck with you, hmm?” he mumbles a minute or two later. 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees, wrapping both arms around Kurt. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“No minding,” Kurt says, still mumbling against Finn’s skin. “Good.” 

“Want to take a little nap and then try again, just to be sure?”

Kurt laughs and nods his head. “Sounds perfect.” 

They doze for an hour or two, wake up and fuck, then order room service, fucking again after they eat. When they finally fall asleep for the night, Finn lies on his side and pulls Kurt into the curve of his body, draping one arm protectively over him.

_Kurt stops for a cup of coffee when he leaves the Vogue.com offices, which means he’s only forty-five minutes earlier than he’d thought he’d be at Gabe’s, instead of a full hour earlier. With most of the office traveling for Thanksgiving soon, there had been too many people looking busy and Isabelle had sent Kurt home early. More specifically, she’d told him to leave and winked._

_“Gabe!” Kurt calls while he’s still opening the door._

_“Shut the door!” Gabe barks. “You’re supposed to let me know when you’re on your way here.”_

_Kurt frowns to himself as he shuts the door. “Isabelle let me leave early, so I thought I’d surprise you.”_

_“You know I don’t like surprises,” Gabe says. “And I can’t have that door open when I’m working. Do you understand? That is not acceptable.”_

_“The door’s closed,” Kurt says mildly. “And I know you don’t like bad surprises. Did I interrupt your artistic process that badly?”_

_“Come in here,” Gabe says, with a protracted sigh. Kurt walks into the room, one eyebrow already raised, but he stops just inside, staring around. There are multiple photographs posted of what look like detail shots of the Picasso print also spread out, as well as what looks like an assortment of old bare canvases._

_“Gabe, what…”_

_“I guess it’s time you learned what I do for a living,” Gabe says. He holds his arm out for Kurt, and Kurt steps into Gabe’s embrace. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at my pretty little boy. I’ve just tried so hard to keep you from all of this. I wanted to keep you safe. Keep you pure.”_

_“Safe?” Kurt repeats. “What exactly do you mean, Gabe?”_

_“Look at the easel, Kurt. Do you recognize the painting?”_

_“Of course. Picasso.”_

_“Why might I be painting a Picasso, Kurt?” Gabe asks._

_“You were insulted when I suggested unsuspecting tourists, and I don’t think the gullible private dealer exists,” Kurt admits. “I don’t think it’s merely so you can look at it. Knowing it’s not the real thing would make it less satisfying. Right?”_

_“Correct. It’s not for tourists. It’s for the museum,” Gabe says. “And the real Picasso?” He raises his eyebrows at Kurt. “I already have a buyer lined up. Sixty million, Kurt. That’s what I earn when_ I _go to work for the evening.”_

_Kurt studies the Picasso forgery for a moment, mulling over what Gabe’s said. “How often does a museum realize you’ve swapped out a piece?” he finally asks._

_“How often do you read about high-priced art thefts in your little magazine?” Gabe asks._

_“Visual art? Rarely. I’m sure it would make more impact if it were an original 1985 Donna Karan or something,” Kurt says apologetically. “How many times a year are you able to… go to work in the evening?”_

_“Often enough to keep us both very comfortable. It’s not always paintings, of course.”_

_“Sculpture?”_

_Gabe nods. “And gems, other antiquities. Surrealist and Cubist paintings are my passion, though, and Picasso in particular.”_

_“Any specific Picasso?”_

_“Oh, there isn’t a work by Picasso that I don’t love, but yes, I am on the hunt for one very special Picasso,” Gabe says. “It was lost a long time ago. I intend to find it.”_

_“You haven’t kept any of the other Picassos for yourself?” Kurt asks curiously._

_Gabe gestures around the apartment. “Do you see a Picasso here?”_

_“Gabe, you have an entire profession I didn’t know about. I’m sure there are other places you could have a Picasso hanging.”_

_“That’s right. I could.”_

_“Hence my question,” Kurt says with a smile. “If you don’t, I think you should.”_

_Gabe returns the smile, sliding his hand up to the back of Kurt’s neck and leaning in to give him a hard, possessive kiss. “So you’re not running to the police?”_

_“I didn’t even think of that,” Kurt admits. “It’s not really hurting anyone. If anything, you could couch it altruistically, couldn’t you? People can still view your perfect replica in the museum, a private owner also enjoys it, and you get the money?”_

_“Mmm. So you think my painting is perfect?” Gabe asks._

_“Isn’t it?”_

_“Look more closely. Look at the paint. Tell me what you see.”_

_Kurt walks over to the paint, sniffing once. “It’s a little too fresh?” he guesses. “Maybe… too vibrant?”_

_“That’s right. This is a copy of a painting that’s almost a hundred years old. I haven’t aged it yet,” Gabe says. “Can you guess why I have the other canvasses?”_

_“To see how the paint would look on an older canvas? Or how it would have stretched?”_

_“It’s all about the pigments. Different times, different paints. They have to be absolutely correct in color and composition.”_

_Kurt nods, thinking it over. “Similar to blends in fabric, then?”_

_Gabe smiles. “Exactly.”_

_“So what you’re saying is that it’s not_ yet _a perfect replica, but it will be?”_

_“My pretty little boy is smart,” Gabe says. “Would you like to learn?”_

_“My abilities as a painter are somewhat limited, but you said it wasn’t always paintings,” Kurt says. “Maybe we should start with the things that aren’t paintings?”_

_“What do you want?” Gabe asks. “If you could walk away, scott free, with anything in the world, and leave behind a replica in its place, what would you take?”_

_“An original 1980s Birkin bag,” Kurt says immediately._

_Gabe’s lips curl into a smile. “Then don’t you think we should get started?”_

Finn wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing. He lifts his head to look around the hotel room, and can see it lighting up on the floor near where his pants landed. The clock on the nightstand says it’s just a little after four am.

He carefully slides out from under Kurt, who makes a soft noise of protest but doesn’t otherwise stir, and crosses to his phone, reaching it as it starts to buzz again with another call from Beck. Finn steps into the bathroom with it to answer.

“Hello?” he says quietly. “Natty?”

“I need you on scene,” Beck says, sounding both distracted and exhausted. “Sorry about the time.” 

“I’m kinda— I’m with somebody. It can’t wait for morning?” 

“Two bodies and a theft, and damn. Sorry,” Beck says again. “I’m pretty sure it’s the Silver Fox.” 

“Shit. Okay. Where?” Finn asks. 

“At the Gagosian at Park and 75th. You can just take the train straight up, right?” 

“Not at home. It’ll take me a little while, but I’ll be there as fast as I can, okay?” Finn says. 

Beck whistles for just a second. “Go Hudson,” she says tiredly. “Bring me coffee?” 

“Yeah. See you in a few,” Finn says. He ends the call, then sighs to himself, scrubbing his hands over his face to wake himself up. His hands still smell like Kurt, though, which only serves to make him want to climb back into bed. Instead, Finn splashes some cold water on his face, then quietly walks around the room retrieving the rumpled pieces of his suit. Once he’s dressed, he scribbles a quick note for Kurt on a piece of hotel stationery. 

_Not skipping out! Called out to a scene, Natty needed me. Hate to leave you. Call me when you’re up and we’ll plan breakfast/lunch/dinner._

Finn folds the paper in half, writes ‘Kurt’ on the outside of it, and tucks it under Kurt’s arm. He plants a soft kiss on Kurt’s lips, then reluctantly leaves the hotel room, heading downstairs and then out of the hotel, towards the subway. He’s only on the S train for about a minute, then he spends another twenty minutes sitting around waiting for the 6 up to 77th Street. It’s right past the thirty minute mark when he arrives outside the Gagosian, where Beck is waiting with Sobol and a cluster of uniformed NYPD. 

“One piece missing, but two dead,” Beck says without preamble. “Violent, bloody, preliminary seems like garroting with something that slices. One guard, one curator, though I don’t think the Silver Fox planned on the curator being there. And— that’s not just the same suit, that’s the same clothes, Hudson!” 

“Like I said, I wasn’t at home,” Finn says. “What piece?”

“Picasso, which isn’t a surprise. The bullfighting linocut suite, so five pieces, technically, but they are—were—being displayed as one. The scene’s pretty bad,” Beck warns as she starts walking towards the entrance, gesturing for Finn to follow her. 

“How bad?” Finn says. 

“I was surprised there were only two bodies,” Beck says. “I know the standard thing about how blood looks like more than it is, but I was still surprised. We don’t have a lot of murders in white collar.” 

“I saw one in Atlanta. It wasn’t my case, but they pulled almost everybody in. It was a will forgery gone wrong,” Finn says. As they round the corner in the gallery, Finn can’t hold back a loud gasp at the scene in front of him. “Jesus Christ!”

“Yeah,” Beck says. “I really am sorry I pulled you from wherever, but I needed you here. As you can tell.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. The Gagosian’s normally white walls are covered in arterial spray, several bloody handprints, and a long red smear. One of the bodies—the security guard, judging from what Finn can see of the man’s uniform under the dark spread of blood—is slumped against the wall. Farther down the hallway, a woman’s small body is splayed in a wide pool of blood. 

“Lab guys are on their way, and the Gagosian knows they’ll be closed today and maybe even tomorrow, so at least we’re not in a particular hurry. I _really_ want to get this guy now, Hudson. Art forgery is one thing, stealing art’s one thing, but this isn’t something I thought I’d see at a scene.” 

“Are you sure it’s your guy?” Finn asks. He walks down the hallway, skirting the security guard’s body, to look at the curator. Her neck is cut deeply from ear to ear, the wound gaping. 

“I don’t think anyone else would kill—twice—for a Picasso,” Beck says quietly. “There’ve been some questionable deaths surrounding his jobs in Europe, but none that could be definitively linked to him until now. I’ll need to copy Interpol on the final report if not before.” 

“Same MO?” Finn peers more closely at the dead woman. “What did he use? Razor wire, maybe?”

“I think so. Very fine gauge, if he is responsible for the deaths in Europe, too.” Beck shakes her head. “He’s getting more brazen.” 

“What’s so special about those linocuts? Are they some of his pricier works?”

“No, they’re not. I could be wrong, but I think what’s special here is the security system. The Gagosian always has the latest technology installed. The fact that he could test it and walk away with a Picasso must’ve been irresistible.”

Finn nods. “So we need a list of who else has installed or is planning to install this new system,” Finn says. “Does he always work alone, or should we be on the look out for a crew? If he’s recruiting, he might tap some of our usual suspects.”

“There’s never been any jobs linked to him that show any evidence of a partner or crew,” Beck says. “But we should probably find out what we can. If there were fewer galleries in this city, I’d start sleeping in a different one every night.” 

“If you want to start with the security systems, I can start looking for Picassos, and we can cross reference,” Finn offers. “The hand prints. The guards, or is there a chance we got at least a fingerprint from your Fox?”

Beck shrugs. “He’s never left one before, but he’s never left two dead bodies either.”

“We’ll get the crew in here, do elimination prints for the guard and the curator, just to be sure,” Finn says. 

“And we’ll start looking at security footage,” Beck says grimly. “Six weeks back, just to make sure that we have the best chance of spotting him. He might know we’d usually start a month back.” 

“What model is the security system? The box on the floor at the main entrance looked like a Promenade. Is it the Mark 16?” Finn asks. 

“Mark 17,” Beck says, shaking her head a little. 

Finn whistles. “Damn! I didn’t think they’d even rolled that out yet. How the hell did he get the specs on it?”

“I’ll ask Cottermeyer and Sobol to contact Promenade and work with them on that angle,” Beck says. 

“I heard the Mark 17 was going to have DNA scanning,” Finn says. “Pinprick on the thumb and all that.”

“If we get really lucky, whatever sample he used was contaminated.”

“Plenty here to sample if he needed it, though,” Finn says, gesturing at the curator. 

“We’ll need to figure out who in the art theft and forgery world has the scientific ability to figure out a ‘key’ to DNA scanning,” Beck says. “We probably need to know that anyway.” 

“Remember when our art thieves were our fun cases?” Finn asks. “I’d take a stack of embezzlement cases if it means we can skip the corpses.”

“Luckily, I don’t think your Pink Diamond is going to kill for couture,” Beck says. “Should we dig right in or get that coffee that you didn’t bring? I know I should say dig right in, but it’s still only 5:30 am.” 

“Coffee. Didn’t exactly get a lot of sleep, plus I want to make sure he got the note,” Finn says.

“ _He_?” Beck repeats immediately. 

“Don’t start, Natty,” Finn says. “You know about Quantico and Atlanta.”

“Oh, did I miss the part where there were notes involved there?” 

“I didn’t want him to wake and think I’d bailed, okay?”

“There has to be an expectation that you’re not leaving ASAP for a note like that to be necessary,” Beck says. “Tell me more, and I’ll buy your coffee.” 

“I’ll tell you more after I _have_ the coffee,” Finn says. “Deal?”

“Deal,” Beck says, and when they get to the Joe Coffee around the corner, she buys Finn the largest size and turns to him with a smile that she probably uses on women at a club. “There’s your coffee!” 

“Yeah, yeah, let me drink a little first. I didn’t even have a chance to shower.” Finn glowers at Beck as he starts drinking his coffee, and continues until he’s finished half of it. 

“Busy night, then?” Beck asks. 

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it,” Finn says. 

“Spill, Hudson. Who’s the lucky guy?” 

“I said I’d tell you more. I didn’t say I’d tell you his name.”

“Ashamed or protective?” Beck asks. “It’s not someone from _work_? Hudson, tell me you didn’t hook up with that awful guy down in organized crime? The probie?” 

“First of all, one of the first rules you told me when I transferred here from Atlanta was don’t shit where you eat,” Finn says. “Second of all, no, he’s not involved with law enforcement in any way.”

“Good. Good. You didn’t answer my first question, though: are you ashamed of him or protective?” 

Finn sighs. “Protective. It’s… complicated.”

“He likes you enough to spend the night with you and want you to be there when he wakes up, same from you, what’s complicated?” Beck asks. 

“Natty,” Finn says, giving her the don’t-push-it look. 

“You said you’d tell me more, you’ve barely told me anything. Pick something to tell me,” Beck says. 

“Fine. We’ve got a lot of history. Like, a _lot_ of history,” Finn says. “And it just makes things potentially really difficult for both of us.”

“Okay. Where’d you meet?” 

“Back home.”

“Ohio? Yeah, that is a long time. _How_ did you meet, then?” 

“Went to school together,” Finn says. 

“Is there some kind of embarrassing story I’m missing here? Like you met when you both fell down a flight of stairs or something?”

“Yeah, but more embarrassing like there’s the time we danced together at our parents’ wedding.”

Luckily, Beck’s standing beside him, not across from him, because she spits out her coffee and starts coughing. “You— you and Kurt?” she finally says. 

“So you get why I left a note, huh?” Finn asks. 

“I’m actually a little surprised you’re here at all,” Beck says. “Even with my call.” 

“You wouldn’t’ve called me that early if you didn’t really need me. I’m not leaving you hanging with the Fox any more than you’d shut me down about the Pink Diamond,” Finn says. “Kurt’ll understand that.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply he wouldn’t. I’m still a little surprised. After we walk back and fill in the rest of the team, you should stay outside for a few extra minutes and call him,” Beck says. 

“I said in the note for him to call me when he’s up. I don’t want to wake him. He was still out cold when I left,” Finn says, smiling to himself as he thinks about having been in bed with Kurt just an hour or so ago.

“So I’ll just plan on sending you outside as soon as I hear your phone ring?”

“If I’m working, I can keep it short,” Finn says. “Not like he’s that far away. I figured I’d see him later tonight, at least.”

“Yeah, yeah, look at you,” Beck says. “Congratulations on getting out of that sinkhole.” 

“Thanks for telling me I needed to do something about it,” Finn says. 

“Let me give you one more piece of advice, then. I wouldn’t tell your parents just yet.” 

Finn laughs loudly. “Yeah, wasn’t planning on that _any_ time soon!”

They work on scene for the next two hours, directing the evidence gathering and talking to the gallery director about the pieces, the security system, the video surveillance footage for inside and outside the galley, and the gallery’s other staff, including the cleaning crew. They take the list of employees’ contact information back to the office with them, divvying up names to call to schedule interviews and elimination prints for later in the morning through early afternoon. Finn changes into his spare shirt and puts on a fresh pot of coffee.

Finn’s phone rings with a call from Kurt a little after ten, while he and Beck are preparing for the first employee interview. Beck raises her eyebrow and tilts her head towards the door of the conference room. Finn answers his phone as he’s walking out the door.

“Kurt! Hey!”

“Good morning,” Kurt says. “Or I suppose for you it feels more like afternoon. I’m sorry you had to leave.” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry, too,” Finn says. “I did _not_ want to get out of that bed for this.”

“Can you get away for lunch, or should we make plans for dinner?” Kurt asks. “And if it’s the latter, do you need a fresh tie?” 

“I need a fresh everything, but yeah, I’m thinking it’ll have to be dinner. We’ve got interviews set up for the next few hours.”

“I’ll make us some reservations, then. Seven late enough?” 

“God, I hope so,” Finn says. “I think a twelve or thirteen hour day is probably long enough.”

“If we were going by ‘long enough’, I’d be making late lunch reservations for you and I, wouldn’t I?” Kurt pauses and his voice drops somewhat. “I had a very, very good time last night.” 

“Yeah, me, too. Like I said, hard to tear myself away from you this morning,” Finn says. 

“Probably best you didn’t wake me up, then, or you might not have made it to the scene. I suppose I should let you get back to work for now, shouldn’t I? I’ll see you later, Finn.” 

“Have a good rest of your morning, Kurt,” Finn says. He waits for the line to go dead before he ends the call and pockets his phone, discreetly adjusting himself in the process, so he doesn’t traumatize poor Beck.

Beck sticks her head out of the conference room only a few seconds later. “Lobby called, our first interview’s on her way up.” 

Finn nods. “I’ll meet her at the elevators and walk her in.”

After Finn escorts the Gagosian’s office manager up to the interview room, he and Beck alternate asking her questions for around twenty minutes before somebody taps on the glass door to the room. Since Beck is currently offering the office manager a third tissue, Finn opens the door and steps out. Supervisory Special Agent Jones is waiting in the hallway, looking frustrated or annoyed. 

“Two other Gagosian locations were hit last night,” Jones says as soon as the conference room door is closed again. “NYPD only now saw fit to notify us. The Madison Avenue location had their alarm tripped, and the West 21st location has evidence of tampering, nothing missing.” 

“Shit. He must’ve only been able to get all the way in on the third try,” Finn says. “I’ll tell Beck. She’s going to be pissed about it too, NYPD taking this long to get to us. We’ll have to get the staff from those locations in here, too.”

“Let her know NYPD is informing the staff there not to discuss it with anyone, even if it takes more than a day or two to get to all of them,” Jones says with a single nod. “I’ll forward her the reports as soon as we receive them.” 

“Yes, sir,” Finn says. He goes back into the interview room, and they wrap up the interview with the office manager after a fifth tissue for her and several irritable glances down at her watch for Beck. After Finn ushers the office manager out to the elevator, he walks back in and breaks the news about the other two galleries to Beck.

“Dammit!” Beck says, slamming the file in her hand on the table. “I bet NYPD released those scenes already, too.” 

“Jones says the staff has been told not to dismiss it, but my guess is, they opened for business as usual,” Finn says. 

“I guess I’m calling those locations of the Gagosian and sending Devlin and Cottermeyer back out,” Beck says, gesturing to her desk. “And a team from the lab to each location.” 

“Want me to schedule the interviews, or let Devlin and Cottermeyer do the preliminaries on site?”

“We’ll have to get them to do preliminaries on site, or otherwise we’re going to be doing interviews for these scenes when he hits another gallery,” Beck says.

“Shit,” Finn mutters under his breath.

“Beyond the taken-as-read shit?”

“Kurt was making us dinner reservations at seven,” Finn says. “So I’ve already managed to ditch him in bed and cancel our dinner plans, and we’re not even twenty-four hours into this thing. He’s going to realize this is a bad idea, him and me.”

Beck rolls her eyes. “You’re going to dinner. I’ll keep Cottermeyer here late and have him be the lab liaison, which is win-win. And I’m sure Kurt understands that sometimes the job takes more time than others.” 

“Yeah, but how many of us have actually had long-lasting relationships in this job?” Finn asks. 

“Sobol. ASAC.” Beck shrugs. “I know you haven’t really had anyone before that you _wanted_ it to last, not since you got to New York, no matter what you said.” 

“Part of that is knowing the job would make it that much harder,” Finn points out, “but I really want this one to work, Natty. It’s _Kurt_.”

“Then don’t cancel your dinner plans. We’ll be fine here without you,” Beck says. “Promise.” 

“It’s your case, so what you say goes,” Finn says. 

“Exactly. I’m the boss for this one, and I say go to dinner with Kurt.” 

“Yes ma’am!”

Their second interview arrives shortly after that, and they start the process all over again, this time with fewer tissues, at least. This one doesn’t have any additional useful information, either. Finn can practically see the steam rising off Beck by the time they conclude the interview. 

“This is a waste of time,” Beck says, almost growling. “But we have to do it. One of them will have a single piece of information, and it’ll take us ten hours to find it.” 

“Want me to run out and grab you some lunch?” Finn asks. 

“I’ll just grab a hot dog,” Beck says. “It’s— yeah, definitely not asking you to grab me lunch,” she says, looking out the conference room windows. Finn turns to look, seeing Kurt walk into the office, carrying two paper bags, one of them with a restaurant logo on the side. 

“Yeah, guess not. Sorry, Natty,” Finn says, unable to fight the grin he feels spreading across his face. 

“Go,” she says, shooing Finn out of the conference room. 

“Thanks, Natty!” Finn only barely contains himself from bounding out of the conference room and taking the stairs two at a time, instead walking down as calmly as he can manage. “Hey! I didn’t expect to see you until dinner!”

“Since you couldn’t come to lunch, lunch came to you,” Kurt says, smiling at Finn. “And something to help you feel a little fresher, too.” He hands Finn the plain paper bag, setting the restaurant bag down on Finn’s desk. Finn takes the bag a little awkwardly, starting to lean in, then freezing.

“I have no idea how you want to handle this,” Finn says under his breath. “The public part.”

“I thought I’d leave it up to you. Fashion writers are allowed to be quirkier than FBI agents.” 

“Okay.” Finn leans in the rest of the way to give Kurt a kiss that’s quick, but definitely _not_ brotherly. When he pulls away, he smiles at Kurt. “Acceptable?”

“Yes,” Kurt says, still smiling. 

“So, if that’s lunch, what’s this?” Finn asks, holding up the plain paper bag in his hand. 

“A tie, since an entire suit was harder to procure on short notice.” 

“Thanks, Kurt,” Finn says, pulling the tie out of the bag. “I was able to change into my backup shirt, but— wow, that is a _nice_ tie!”

“Now I _really_ must keep up your reputation,” Kurt says. “I avoided the pink one with whales.” 

“This is great. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome. Do you need to eat here, or can we head to the park?” 

Finn looks up at Beck in the conference room, points to him, then Kurt, then out the door. Beck nods and gives him a thumbs up. 

“Park sounds great,” Finn says. He offers Kurt his arm, and Kurt picks up the food again with his free hand as he takes Finn’s arm. 

“I planned for the park, so sandwiches and chips only,” Kurt says once they’re on the elevator. “No salad.” 

“Yeah, you know me. Salad guy all the way,” Finn says. “Well, okay. I like egg salad.”

“That’s not _really_ a salad,” Kurt says. “Is the case progressing at all?” 

“I can’t really talk about it too much. It’s Natty’s case, and it’s definitely ongoing.”

“But it must be something relatively extraordinary for her to call you in during the night?” 

“You’ll probably see it on the news. Double homicide,” Finn says. 

Kurt looks startled. “But you work white collar. Not homicides. Why is it her case?” 

“Because of what you won’t see on the news, which is the robbery committed at the same time as the murders,” Finn says. 

“Someone killed two people just to commit a robbery?” Kurt makes a face. “That seems… unusual?” 

“It is. Natty’s got a suspect in mind, though, and we’ve suspected he was capable of this.”

“Oh? Has he robbed other museums in the city?” 

“Gallery, not museum, and that’s the last I’m saying about it,” Finn says. “I’ve been working since five this morning. Lunch is just us, okay?”

“No lunch dates to exhibits, check,” Kurt says as the elevator doors open. 

“Depends on the exhibit, I guess,” Finn says. “What do _you_ like to do on a lunch date?”

“I like photography if I’m going to actually look at the art,” Kurt says thoughtfully. “Otherwise, a meal and conversation.” 

“See? We like exactly the same kind of lunch date,” Finn says. 

“Even down to the photographs?” 

“Sure, I’d like looking at photographs if they’re with you.”

“I’ll remember that, then,” Kurt says as they find a shaded bench. “You’ll probably be unsurprised to know I don’t like even walking through the women’s clothing sections when I’m taking a break for lunch.” 

“You know, I don’t enjoy that either,” Finn says, sitting down next to Kurt on the bench and leaning in close. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Kurt says softly, leaning in the remaining distance between them to kiss Finn. “I know why you had to go, but I did find myself disappointed this morning.” He puts one hand on Finn’s thigh and squeezes it very gently. “I had some thoughts about ways we could wake up.” 

“Yeah? Did you want to tell me about them now or wait until after dinner to show me?” Finn asks.

“Since we both have to go back to work this afternoon, I should probably wait, shouldn’t I?”

“Hmm. This might be the first part of the lunch date we disagree on.”

“Oh? You think I should go ahead and tell you, right here in the park?” Kurt asks. 

Finn laughs. “Should?” He shrugs. “Want you to? Hell yeah.”

“Well,” Kurt says, clearly stalling as he reaches into the bag and hands Finn a sandwich, followed by a bag of Baked Lay’s. “Do you want the version where I woke up first?” 

“Sure. Is that your favorite version?”

“It’s more detailed, at least,” Kurt says. “I’d make sure you were still asleep, then start running my hands over your chest until you were almost stirring, and then I’d start kissing my way down your chest, and if we were very, very good at timing, I’d put my mouth on you at the same time your eyes started fluttering open.” 

Finn can feel himself starting to get hard, and he shifts on the bench. “Maybe this should wait for after dinner, or I might not make it back to the office,” he admits. 

Kurt looks pleased as he pulls his own sandwich out of the bag. “I thought that might be the case.” 

“If it were any case but this one…”

“Even the Pink Diamond?” Kurt says teasingly. “I’m glad to have surpassed him.” 

“The Pink Diamond doesn’t murder two people just to steal a few prints of bullfighters,” Finn says. 

Kurt freezes in the process of unwrapping his sandwich, and he has a strange look on his face when he turns to look at Finn. “Picasso’s linocuts?” he says somewhat faintly. 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “You know them?”

Kurt nods and swallows once, resuming unwrapping his sandwich. “I’m relatively familiar with most of Picasso’s works, actually.” 

“Then you know they’re not exactly the most valuable pieces,” Finn says. “Definitely not worth killing for.”

“No,” Kurt says, shaking his head and frowning. “They are not. I don’t think any _thing_ would be, though.” 

“Same, but I guess this guy doesn’t agree.”

Kurt nods and takes a bite from his sandwich, sliding across the bench to make the remaining two or three inches between them shrink to zero, and as he eats, he leans his head on Finn’s shoulder. Finn tilts his head to rest it on Kurt’s.

“This is really nice,” Finn says. 

“Yes, it is,” Kurt says, nodding his head slightly under Finn’s. 

“I really wish I didn’t have to go back in,” Finn says. “I could talk to Beck. She might not need me.”

“Me too,” Kurt says, “but you need to catch this murderous thief. Does he have a nickname, too?” 

“Yeah. Natty calls him ‘Silver Fox’ because the only picture we have of the guy is a partial shot of the back of his head. Silver-white hair.”

Kurt snorts suddenly, then shakes his head a little. “At least that’s hard to cover up, even with the best hair dyes?” 

“Yeah, I know the nicknames are cheesey,” Finn says. “We find our fun where we can. Did I ever tell you about the ASAC’s CI’s nickname?”

Kurt shakes his head. “No. The one that died?” 

“Yeah. Boss doesn’t talk about him much, but we’ve all read the files. James Bonds.”

Kurt snorts again. “Well, it’s no Pink Diamond, but it’s cute.” 

“I figure if the guy takes the time to leave a calling card, the least I can do is call him by it,” Finn says. 

“I’m sure he’d appreciate it, if he knew.” 

“He’ll find out sooner or later, when I catch up to him,” Finn says. “Hell, maybe I’ll buy the guy a drink before I arrest him, to thank him for the challenge and for keeping it clean. No bodies.”

“Do I need to chaperone, if you’re taking another man out for a drink?” 

“Uh-oh. Are you jealous of my criminal?” Finn asks. 

“You _are_ making extensive plans regarding when you’ll be putting him in handcuffs, are you not?” 

Finn laughs. “Is that something you’re into? ’Cause I promise it won’t be sexy when it happens with him!”

“I can’t answer that question on the grounds that your presence is required back in the office soon.” 

“Tonight, then,” Finn says, taking another bite of his sandwich.

Kurt nods. “Tonight.”

_Kurt pockets his passport without looking at it and with some amusement, and once they’re away from customs, he hands it over to Gabe. “My name isn’t something atrocious this time, is it?”_

_“Only if you think ‘Blair Ragsdale’ is atrocious,” Gabe says._

_“Comparatively, no,” Kurt concedes._

_“If it makes you feel better, I’m ‘Harold Baxter’ this time.”_

_Kurt winces. “You are very much not a ‘Harold’, you know.” He knows Gabe has traveled back and forth to Europe several times in recent months, chasing down the mysterious lost Picasso, and he wonders if Gabe uses sexier names for those trips._

_“And you are very much not atrocious, no matter what your passport may suggest,” Gabe says. “Let’s check in to the villa and catch a late breakfast before we start our morning constitutional?”_

_“Can you wait that long to put your eyes on them?” Kurt asks with a smile._

_Gabe gives Kurt the faux-frown-smile that means he’s pleased with Kurt’s response. “The wait makes it so much better. Surely you know that by now, my pretty little boy?”_

_“Of course,” Kurt says, keeping the smile on his face and trying his best not to think about Gabe calling him that in bed, only when he’s being rough, which usually means it’s close to a job. “A light breakfast, then?”_

_“Mmm. Yes. We’ll keep it light, so you can watch your figure,” Gabe says. Kurt nods without wincing or letting his smile falter. He’s certain that Gabe wouldn’t physically remove food from Kurt’s plate, at least, and they do exactly as Gabe had suggested, checking in and eating a light breakfast before heading via the canals to the Guggenheim._

_“This isn’t_ the _one you’ve been after, is it?” Kurt asks as they ride._

_Gabe shakes his head. “No. Still only hints and rumors about that one, but I’ll find it. I always find what I’m looking for, eventually.” Kurt nods, falling silent as the gondola comes to a halt and they disembark near the Guggenheim._

_“Where to first?” Kurt asks as soon as they’re inside, and if he rustles the brochure more than usual, people will only note his age and nationality._

_“We’ll linger by the sculptures for a bit,” Gabe says. “Find one you like. Point to it and tell me a story about it, then I’ll take your picture with it.”_

_“Remember, no flash photography in the gallery,” Kurt says with a discreet roll of his eyes at the signs posted as they walk towards the statues. “We don’t want to be_ those _Americans.”_

_“Not in this gallery, certainly,” Gabe agrees._

_Two of the Picassos are in view from the statues, and Kurt glances at them under the pretext of studying the statues more closely. One of them, Kurt knows, was recently on display in New York, which should rule it out, but then, Kurt supposes that stealing it in Italy would cause suspicion to fall away from anyone based in the United States. He nods to himself once, then moves towards the statue where that particular piece will be in the background of any photograph._

_“I think this one will make a nice picture, don’t you?” Kurt asks._

_Gabe snaps a few photos. “You’re worthy of being kept in a museum yourself. Maybe I’ll have to lock you away with my other treasures.”_

_“Part of a private collection, then?”_

_“Of course. Much harder to steal there.”_

_Kurt keeps smiling and even takes Gabe’s arm as they continue walking through the collection, but he can feel a shiver run down his back at Gabe’s seemingly casual words of possession. Kurt knows it’s probably nerves about the job bothering him, but it still makes him uncomfortable._

_When Gabe is satisfied, they leave the museum for a lunch so late that it’s more of an early dinner before returning to the villa._

_“Did you decide on a day?” Kurt asks._

_“Tuesday night,” Gabe says. “That gives me tonight and tomorrow to prepare.”_

_“What do you need me to do?”_

_“Nothing until Tuesday. Take a gondola ride. Shop. Buy some pretty things for a pretty boy,” Gabe says, pulling Kurt close for a kiss._

_“Some wine?” Kurt suggests._

_“Tonight, yes. Tomorrow, I have to be clear-headed, so open one I like tonight. You’ll have to finish tomorrow’s bottle alone.”_

_“Of course.” Kurt spends his time in Venice as Gabe had suggested, mostly window shopping and purchasing a few things. On Monday evening, Gabe leaves around ten, leaving Kurt with the remainder of the wine just as he’d said, and Kurt goes to bed a little before midnight._

_Kurt wakes up around three to Gabe returning, and when he turns on the lamp, he gasps. “Are you hurt?” he asks, looking at the blood on Gabe. Gabe doesn’t answer, immediately going to the sink and starting to scrub his hands. “I can find a first aid kit, I’m sure,” Kurt says. He stands up and starts looking through the cabinets in the villa. “If anything’s particularly deep, though, first aid won’t be adequate.”_

_“Do you ever shut up?” Gabe asks, continuing to scrub, his voice cold._

_Kurt freezes in place, then slowly closes the cabinet he’s looking through and stands up. “I’m sorry?” he offers quietly._

_Gabe starts unbuttoning his shirt, letting it drop to the ground, then he removes his pants as well. He picks up the clothing and shoves it into the small fireplace built into the wall between the villa’s bedroom and living space. Kurt walks back to the bed, keeping his eyes on Gabe, who does at least appear to be unhurt._

_When Gabe’s clothing is nothing but ash, Gabe returns to the sink, scrubbing his hands again, this time talking quietly and calmly—deceptively so, Kurt thinks—without turning around. “When I tell you that I don’t need you to do anything until Tuesday, I mean that you are in no way to be involved with my business affairs until the time and date of my choosing. This means that you have no need to ask any additional questions at this time. Do you understand me, Kurt?”_

_“I understand, but I wasn’t ‘involving myself’, Gabe, I was in bed asleep!”_

_“I asked if you understood, Kurt,” Gabe repeats, his tone icy. “Not to explain how your questions about my business are justified because you went to bed like a good little boy.”_

_Kurt doesn’t respond again, climbing back into bed and lying down with his eyes still open. After a moment, Gabe climbs into bed next to Kurt, embracing him. His hands are cold from the sink’s water, and he runs them down Kurt’s chest and stomach to his cock._

_“I would never put you in danger,” Gabe murmurs in Kurt’s ear. “Why won’t you let me keep you safe?”_

_“You do keep me safe, Gabe,” Kurt says, and if the response is a little more automatic than spontaneous, it’s what Gabe wants to hear._

_“My work isn’t always pretty like you. Sometimes it’s very messy. I want to keep that away from you, don’t you understand that? I don’t want that mess to touch you.” Gabe continues stroking Kurt slowly and talking in a low, soothing voice. “I want to keep you clean, away from the dirty parts of what I do.”_

_“Of course,” Kurt says softly._

_“You’re so precious to me,” Gabe practically purrs into Kurt’s ear. Kurt smiles, even though it’s hard for his brain to reconcile Gabe’s icy cold tone and the sudden switch as soon as he was lying next to Kurt. Gabe’s hand moves lazily on Kurt’s cock while he kisses Kurt’s forehead._

_“I know, Gabe,” Kurt says reassuringly. “I love you.”_

_Gabe abruptly flips Kurt onto his stomach, pinning him to the bed with a hand splayed across the back of Kurt’s neck. Kurt’s body goes limp, both because he knows it’s what Gabe wants and because he knows from experience that there’s no use in resistance. Gabe is stronger, and more relentless, qualities Kurt appreciates when Gabe isn’t using them like this._

_With one knee, Gabe knocks Kurt’s legs apart, keeping one hand on the back of Kurt’s neck. Kurt can hear the quiet click of a bottle before Gabe drizzles the lube, icy cold, between Kurt’s spread legs. Gabe runs his thumb down Kurt’s ass, spreading the lube from between his cheeks to his opening and pushing roughly inside. Kurt bites back the grunt that tries to escape, because he knows that making any kind of noise that isn’t completely pleasurable will make Gabe angrier and rougher, and he makes himself focus on the fact that he knows Gabe will be back to normal, gentle and loving, as soon as the job is over._

_Gabe pulls his thumb out of Kurt and quickly replaces it with his cock, pushing in hard and fast until he’s bottomed out inside Kurt. His hand tightens on the back of Kurt’s neck as he starts to fuck him._

_“That’s it, that’s my pretty boy, my pretty little boy,” Gabe murmurs. “Such a big day tomorrow.”_

_Kurt nods, acknowledging Gabe’s words, wondering what Gabe would think if he knew how much Kurt is looking forward to the job being done. He closes his eyes as Gabe continues fucking him roughly and tries to feel only where Gabe’s strokes are hitting his prostate, not Gabe’s hand on his neck. Gabe goes on and on, muttering little endearments to Kurt, but not loosing his neck or moving any more gently._

_“It’s time, my pretty boy, it’s time to be my good boy. It’s time to come for me like my good, pretty little boy,” Gabe says, leaning close enough to Kurt’s ear that he must be resting his chin on his own hand. “Do it now.”_

_Kurt still doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that his body responds so well, but it does, coming on cue just as Gabe commands. Gabe slams into him a few more time before he comes as well, the sounds he makes in Kurt’s ear eerily close to growls. Gabe doesn’t pull out of Kurt, but just rolls them onto their sides, draping a possessive arm over Kurt’s chest._

_“Tomorrow night, we’ll be making love in front of_ Le poète _,” Gabe whispers. “The Poet. That’s perfect for us, isn’t it?”_

_Kurt nods. “Yes, it is,” he says softly._

_“We’ll pick something for you next. Anything you want, we’ll take it,” Gabe says._

_The thought of another job, another night like the one they’re having, so soon, makes Kurt want to cringe, but instead he makes himself smile. “Thank you, Gabe. I love you.”_

_“Sleep now, pretty boy. Busy day tomorrow.”_

Beck’s as true to her word as ever, so even though they still have staff to interview, she directs Finn out the door at six to get ready for dinner. Devlin and Sobol whistle, Cottermeyer suggests that Finn should ‘go get him some’, and even Jones smiles broadly at Finn and says they’ll see him bright and early in the morning. 

Finn just waves goodbye silently and hurries home, changing into the most flattering clothes Kurt has given him over the past two years. Like most of the items Kurt has given Finn since his move to New York, the shirt and tie were samples from designers and the suit is a ‘superb knock-off’ from one of Kurt’s professional connections, Kurt had admitted when Finn protested the amount of money Kurt must have spent. Still, even Finn can admit he looks pretty good as he heads out to the address Kurt gave him, a restaurant Finn has never even heard of.

Kurt isn’t outside the restaurant when Finn gets there, so after checking with the maitre’d that yes, they have reservations, and no, Mr. Hummel has not yet arrived, Finn waits at the small bar in the back, drinking a beer. Around five minutes pass before Kurt walks towards the bar, smiling and wearing different clothes than earlier. 

“You got away better than I suspected,” Kurt says, sliding onto the barstool next to Finn. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Finn says. He leans over and kisses Kurt softly on the mouth. “You look really good,” he adds, when he sits up again. “Like, _really_ good, as in we-can-skip-dinner-if-you-want good.”

“I thought you might be tired of eating takeout with me and only takeout, but if you want to go, I’m not going to argue about delayed gratification,” Kurt says, one hand on Finn’s leg. 

“This place does look really nice, though. Maybe we can bring dessert back to my place,” Finn says. 

“Ooh, a nice compromise,” Kurt says, sliding off the barstool and kissing Finn as he stands next to Finn. “I was told twice this afternoon I seemed awfully happy.” 

“Are you?” Finn asks. “You’re really asking for a lot of stress, getting involved with somebody from the Bureau.”

“You haven’t lived through a Fashion Week with me yet,” Kurt warns somewhat playfully. “We’re both able to find ways around obstacles when necessary, right?”

“That’s a trait we both share, for sure,” Finn says. 

“Then I think we’ll be fine. Shall we get our table?” 

“Yeah, I think we should.”

They get escorted to their table, where Kurt helps Finn order an appetizer and entrée, and they argue good-naturedly over the wine until they decide to just get a bottle of each, since they had both ended up arguing in favor of the other’s first choice, anyway. The food is amazing, of course, and Finn keeps bumping his foot against Kurt’s under the table during the appetizer. By the entrée, they each have a shoe off and are full-on playing footsie under the table. 

“About that dessert being to go…” Kurt says when their server comes to offer the dessert menu. “I think that’s an excellent idea.” 

“Can we get one of everything and a bottle of dessert wine to bring with us?” Finn asks Kurt.

“A regular Bacchanalia?” Kurt says. “I do hope the nudity-included interpretation is what we’re going with?” 

“Whatever you said, as long as it’s nudity, yes,” Finn says, then promptly does order one of everything off the dessert menu, plus two bottles of wine the server recommends. He and Kurt also argue, still good-naturedly, over the bill, but Kurt finally insists that he’s the one who asked Finn to dinner and picked out the restaurant, so Finn concedes. 

“You can pay next time,” Kurt says, paying cash despite the size of the bill. “And we can each carry a bottle of wine.” 

“Taxi or subway?” Finn asks as they get up. “I’d usually just take the subway, but I’m good either way.”

“I agree with you, but in this case, a taxi would be faster, wouldn’t it?” 

Finn nods. “Fast is best.”

“Then taxi it is.” 

Finn flags a taxi, and they make out in it like teenagers, their hands all over each other. When the taxi arrives at Finn’s place, he slides out first, taking both bottles of wine from Kurt, and Kurt pays the driver. 

“I won that one,” Kurt says, taking Finn’s arm as they walk up to the building. 

“Was it a contest?” Finn asks. 

“Yes, and as my prize, you have to be the first to remove any clothing.” 

“Does it have to be my own clothing?”

“Oh, tricky, but yes, because it’s _my_ prize,” Kurt says. 

“Okay, okay,” Finn says. “Only because it’s your prize, though.”

“Would you like a consolation prize? Runner-up?” 

“Yes. Does it involve you being naked, too?”

“Yes, actually,” Kurt says with a smile. “After you remove a piece of _your_ clothing, you get to remove a piece of mine.” 

“Awesome,” Finn says, hauling Kurt towards the apartment faster, which makes Kurt laugh. As soon as Finn unlocks the door and they’re inside, he starts unknotting Kurt’s tie while simultaneously kissing him hard, with lots of tongue. 

Kurt presses on Finn’s chest as they kiss until Finn’s back is against the wall, and then Kurt’s hands start untucking Finn’s shirt. Finn finishes undoing Kurt’s tie and starts working on his shirt, leaning in to kiss Kurt’s throat. He notices the red and slightly purple marks around Kurt’s neck as his collar loosens.

“Oh, shit, I gave you hickies,” Finn says. 

“Are you trying to pretend you were unaware of that possibility?” Kurt asks, his hands sliding under Finn’s shirt and around to Finn’s lower back. 

“I didn’t realize. I was just thinking about how good you tasted and how nice your skin is,” Finn explains, continuing to unbutton Kurt’s shirt and kiss his neck.

“Mmmhmm. You can continue investigating that on parts of my body that aren’t my neck, then,” Kurt says, leaning his head back as his hands move back to Finn’s chest, still under Finn’s shirt. “You know, once we’ve both gotten back to how we woke up, I could show you what I had in mind for this morning.” 

“I might have to go in a little late tomorrow,” Finn says. He pushes Kurt’s shirt off his shoulders, then kisses Kurt’s right shoulder, then his left. 

“I’d hate to cause a federal agent to be remiss in his duties,” Kurt says. “I wouldn’t hate it _that_ much, though.” 

“Yeah, me neither, and Natty owes me one for calling me out of bed with you for bodies,” Finn says. He runs a hand over Kurt’s chest, lightly pinching one nipple. 

Kurt’s eyes half-close and he nods before responding, his voice a little breathy. “Maybe she owes me one, too. That gets us two different mornings, right?” 

“Sounds fair,” Finn says. 

“How is it you still managed to get me more undressed than you?” Kurt asks. “That seems unfair.” 

“I’m just working harder at it,” Finn says, moving his hands down to the fly of Kurt’s pants. 

“Or you’re distracting me with your hands and your mouth.” 

“Oh no,” Finn says, putting his mouth on Kurt’s again and sliding down Kurt’s pants zipper, palming his cock through his underwear. Kurt presses against Finn’s hand as they kiss, his hands resting on Finn’s waist. 

“You don’t sound contrite at all,” Kurt says, barely moving against Finn’s palm. 

“Yeah, ’cause I’m not.” Finn puts his mouth back on Kurt’s neck, curling his fingers around Kurt’s cock through the thin, silky fabric. “Not at all.”

“I didn’t think so. Maybe you should just take me to bed now, then, if you’re going to be so unapologetic about it?” 

“Well, if you say so,” Finn says, scooping Kurt up into his arms. “I’ll finish undressing you there!” He starts walking towards the bedroom, and Kurt laughs as he puts his arms around Finn’s neck. Finn carries Kurt to the bed and carefully lays him on it, climbing on top of him and kissing him. 

“A man of action,” Kurt says, reaching for Finn’s belt and unbuckling it. “I approve.” 

“Good,” Finn says. He keeps kissing Kurt while Kurt unfastens Finn’s pants, pulling them down as far as he can. Finn wiggles his way out of them before tugging Kurt’s pants off, too, immediately dipping his head to kiss Kurt’s stomach. “Your body is perfect. Has anybody— you know, I don’t want to know if they have. However perfect they said it was, it’s more than that, okay? God, I just want to kiss every inch of your skin.”

Kurt puts one hand on Finn’s head, the other on Finn’s back, and he arches up a little, his body following Finn’s mouth. “You could,” Kurt says. “If you want to.” 

“Yeah?” Finn asks. He tugs at Kurt’s underwear, slowly working them off his hips. “If you’ll stay still, I’d love to do that. I just— I don’t know. Maybe it sounds stupid, but I just want to learn your whole body.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid at all. I reserve the right to wiggle if you find another one of those ticklish spots, though,” Kurt says with a smile. 

“Sounds fair,” Finn says. He pulls Kurt’s underwear all the way off, along with his socks, and while he’s down by Kurt’s feet, he kisses each toe. 

Kurt wiggles all of them, laughing a little. “Not a full blown foot fetish, though?” 

“Nah,” Finn says, kissing both of Kurt’s arches and then his ankles. “Just part of ‘whole body’.”

“To each their own, but… good,” Kurt admits. 

Finn kisses and nibbles at Kurt’s calves and shins, moving Kurt’s legs around to reach as much skin as possible. He bends Kurt’s left leg, pressing it to the side, against the bed, and kisses the back of his knee. When Kurt wiggles like he’s trying to get away, biting his lower lip, Finn moves to the other knee, kissing and lightly nipping. 

“Congratulations,” Kurt says, a laugh escaping. 

Finn lifts his head. “Huh?”

“You found another ticklish spot.” 

Finn grins as he lowers his head again, kissing a little higher up Kurt’s leg, licking little circles with his tongue all up Kurt’s inner thigh. Kurt stops laughing, moaning a little as Finn’s tongue moves higher. Finn licks and bites and kisses all the way up to the juncture of Kurt’s groin before moving to the other leg, doing the same from the back of the knee up. When he reaches the top of that thigh, he moves to Kurt’s hip, biting and sucking at the skin over Kurt’s hipbone. 

“Are you going to devour me?” 

“Don’t you want me to?” Finn asks. 

“I think it’s an excellent idea.” 

Finn smiles. “Good.” He returns to Kurt’s hip, lapping at the red marks he left. He kisses Kurt’s lower abdomen, carefully skirting his cock, and licks and kisses up Kurt’s sides, making him wiggle and laugh. Once Finn reaches Kurt’s armpit, which he nips lightly, he slides his lips over Kurt’s chest until he reaches a nipple. Finn sucks and bites, Kurt’s body arching up into his touches. Finn smoothes his hands down Kurt’s sides while he keeps sucking on the first nipple, then the other. 

“Or what a way to go, even,” Kurt says, his head tilted back and his neck exposed. Once Finn decides Kurt’s nipples have been sucked long enough, he bites a few spots on both of Kurt’s collarbones, then licks his throat, long strokes of his tongue along Kurt’s soft, salty skin. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” Finn says, when he gets close to Kurt’s ear, which he goes ahead and nibbles and licks for good measure. 

“You feel good tasting me,” Kurt says, turning his head barely to the side. 

Finn laughs softly, kissing the side of Kurt’s neck again, then gently pulls on his shoulder to roll him over. Kurt starts to turn, but he tenses at the same time. He stays tense for several seconds, then relaxes almost abruptly. 

“Sorry,” Kurt says softly. “Force of habit.” 

“Shhh. It’s okay.” Finn slides behind Kurt, spooning him and kissing his neck. “You don’t ever have to apologize for stuff like that. If you don’t want me to do something, you can tell me, okay? Or if you need me to do it different.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to,” Kurt says, relaxing against Finn’s chest. “It’s just survival mechanisms I haven’t completely eliminated.” 

Finn puts his arm around Kurt’s waist, holding him loosely, and keeps kissing Kurt’s neck in between words. “I’m sorry. I hate that it was like that for you.”

“I usually felt, especially at the beginning, that he thought I was _too_ breakable. But sometimes it was like he was trying his best to break me. I stayed too long,” Kurt admits. “I am sorry for that, for me and for you.” 

“God, Kurt,” Finn says, tightening his arm. “Don’t be sorry about it for me. I want to find him and, I don’t know. Do something stupid to him.”

“I regret that I left him in a way that provides no warning for whomever else he chooses, but I can’t regret having him out of my life completely,” Kurt says. “I’m glad you don’t have to interact with him.” 

“I know you said it didn’t have to be physical hurt for it to hurt, but he _did_ hurt you, didn’t he? Not just control. He hurt you,” Finn says, trying to hold down the anger he can feel rising in his throat, because that doesn’t help or change anything. 

Kurt sighs and then nods. “He did. It always felt secondary, even at the time and especially in retrospect, but yes.” 

“I wish I had been there. You were all alone, weren’t you?”

“You weren’t discharged until near the very end, and then you were in college. Rachel and I had grown apart, and all of my work friends thought he was wonderful. I had people asking for weeks why I had left him.” 

“Shit, Kurt,” Finn says, pressing his face to the back of Kurt’s head. “Don’t be freaked out about what I’m about to say, okay? You don’t have to say anything back, and it doesn’t have to change anything, okay?” Kurt nods. “I love you.”

Kurt doesn’t immediately respond or move, but his body relaxes more against Finn’s, his breathing getting slower and deeper. “I could never truly trust someone I didn’t love,” Kurt finally says, his voice low and quiet. “Or vice versa.” 

“Okay,” Finn says, kissing the back of Kurt’s head. “You know I’ll never hurt you.”

“Yes. I do know that,” Kurt agrees. 

“We can just lie here like this if you want,” Finn says. 

“My list of ‘wants’ doesn’t really have _just_ anything on it,” Kurt says. “And you probably would like to know that there’s at least one ticklish spot you've not yet discovered.”

“Oh yeah? Are you going to give me a hint?” Finn asks. 

“I’ll have to make sure you have access to my back. That’s the only hint you get.” 

Finn runs his hand down Kurt’s side and around to his lower back. “Is it there?”

“You’re getting warmer,” Kurt says. 

“Higher or lower?”

Kurt turns his head, smiling at Finn. “A little bit lower.”

Finn’s hand moves down to just above Kurt’s ass, fingers gently moving. “There?”

“On either side of my spine,” Kurt says. “Halfway between my spine and my side.” 

Finn fingertips brush against one of the spots Kurt indicated. “You mean there?”

Kurt’s hips and back immediately wiggle from side to side, and Kurt bites down on his lip, clearly holding back a laugh. “Yes. There.” 

“Oh, does that tickle?” Finn asks, moving his fingertips against the spot again while pressing his body against Kurt’s back.

“Yes!” Kurt says, wiggling even more. “Are you happy now?”

Finn tickles Kurt more, pressing his erection against Kurt’s ass. “You want me to get rid of my boxers?”

Kurt nods immediately. “Please do.” 

Finn shucks off his boxers without moving away from Kurt, then presses against his back again, kissing his neck and shoulders. Kurt puts his arm behind him, running his hand down Finn’s side and resting it, fingers splayed, over Finn’s hip. Finn pushes his cock against Kurt’s ass, still kissing Kurt’s neck.

“Anything else you want?” Finn asks. 

“Only lots of things,” Kurt says. “We can start with not leaving this bed for hours yet?” 

“Yeah, I think that’s a great idea.”

Finn goes into the office a little late on Friday morning, but nobody says anything other than to rib him about his date night. Beck catches him up on what he’s missed—not much, besides tedious interviews—and then puts him to work following up on a few alibis by phone, work Sobol could’ve easily done. It feels like busy work, in a way, and when Beck sends him out the door by five, his suspicions are confirmed; Beck is definitely keeping the heaviest of the work from him.

Still, Finn can’t complain, not when it gives him a full weekend with Kurt. They spend it mostly at Finn’s place, fucking until they’re exhausted and taking catnaps to recharge in between. On Saturday, Finn orders in Thai food. On Sunday, they go out to brunch, kissing each other with mouths that taste like mimosas as they wait for their food. Finn can’t remember a better, happier, or lighter weekend since he’s been in the city. He feels drunk on Kurt, dizzy with the twin emotions of love and lust, and it’s too easy to lose the rest of his weekend with Kurt wrapped around him.

Monday comes too soon, Finn’s alarm waking him while Kurt keeps sleeping, face down on Finn’s bed. Finn showers and puts on a fresh suit, and before he heads out the door, he kisses a still-sleeping Kurt on the mouth.

“I hope every weekend can be like this,” Finn says, running his hand lightly over Kurt’s hair before making himself walk away and head to work.

He’s only been at his desk long enough to clear his inboxes before Beck leans on his desk. “You’d better snap out of it,” Beck warns. “ASAC might think he needs to order you to take a drug test.” 

“Funny, Natty,” Finn says. “So bring me up to speed. Did you end up working most of the weekend?”

“Define ‘most’,” Beck says with half of a smile. “Most of the interviews are done, and no new information that we can find.” 

“Did they find _anything_ at any of the scenes?” Finn asks. 

“The ME confirmed that it’s the same very fine gauge razor wire that has been used at the scenes in Europe, which is a big break for Interpol, and it gives us a more complete picture of what he’s done and what he’s willing to do.” 

“Shit,” Finn says, shaking his head. “At least Pink Diamond isn’t a killer. They going to make you hand it off, now that there’s so many murders linked to your guy?”

“Yeah, yeah, your criminal is better than mine. Officially, Jones is listed as the lead agent on the case now, but he’s letting me keep running it, and he said we’d change it back after we get the guy. Got to keep Interpol from interfering, but they’ll still pass on information about that lost Picasso the Fox is chasing.” 

“Yeah, guess we do now,” Finn says. “And, uh, _yeah_ my criminal is better. You get bodies. I get sugar trees.”

“And handkerchiefs. Did evidence send it back to you?” Beck asks. 

Finn shakes his head. “Nah. I won’t be bringing it home with me. Might make Kurt jealous, anyway,” he says. 

“He’s jealous of the Pink Diamond?” Beck asks, laughing. “He’s smart, too.” 

“Well, I have spent most of the last three years obsessing over the guy. I bet the next girl you hook up with is going to have a hard time sharing you with a hardened criminal.”

“At least I’m not attracted to older men. That should reassure her. We’ve got two more interviews this afternoon, but the lab reports are in, if you want to take half of them.” 

“Sure,” Finn says. “I owe you for giving me a break this weekend, anyway.”

“Did you actually get out of bed all weekend?”

“Hey! We went out to brunch on Sunday! Put clothes on and everything,” Finn says. 

“I’ll need the name of that restaurant so I can call and confirm you aren’t lying to me,” Beck says. “So the sex is good, huh?” 

Finn grins at Beck. “The sex is _awesome_.”

“Figured out how to make him scream yet? More importantly, has he figured that out for you?” 

“You know, Natty, you’re awfully interested in sex between two guys for somebody who says she isn’t remotely into guys,” Finn says. “You want me to ask Kurt to take some pictures for you next time?”

Beck puts her hand on her collarbone. “I’m hurt, Hudson. I’m just looking out for you.” She pauses and then laughs. “And I bet if Kurt took pictures, you’d be looking at them, not me.” 

“Yeah, I can see the concern in your eyes,” Finn says. 

“Always thinking the worst of me, mon ami,” Beck says as she shakes her head. 

“Je t’aime, Natty.”

Beck rolls her eyes and drops half of the files she’s carrying on Finn’s desk before walking over to her own desk and sitting down. Finn starts going through the lab reports for anything useful, making notes on a Post-It and sticking them to pages as he goes. He takes a short break to get some coffee, and when he comes back to his desk, there’s a courier standing next to it. 

“Agent Hudson?” the courier says. “I have a letter for you.” 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Finn says. The courier hands Finn a tablet to sign, then hands him the letter. The ‘Agent Hudson’ written on the outside is in the same tidy handwriting as on the handkerchief package from the Pink Diamond. “Where did you get this?” Finn asks the courier, immediately setting the letter on his desk.

“Central routing,” the courier says. “I think the most recent batch came from the Times Square area companies.” 

“Is there any way to track where it came from specifically?”

The courier looks at the tablet, then back up at Finn, shaking his head. “No delivery confirmation was requested.” 

“Shit. Okay, you stay here,” Finn says, then he presses the button on his desk phone for the interview room intercom. “Agent Beck? I need you.”

“On my way, give me thirty seconds or so,” Beck says a few seconds later, but it’s closer to fifteen seconds when she leaves the interview room and heads towards Finn. The courier looks confused. 

“Guess who I just got a letter from,” Finn says, pointing at the letter.

“Maybe he’s as interested in you as you are in him?” Beck suggests. “Need gloves and a letter opener?” 

“We should take prints from the outside first, though if it’s been through as many hands as the courier says, I doubt we’ll get anything,” Finn says. 

“I’ll talk to him while you get the prints. I’m assuming you don’t want to wait on the lab,” Beck says. 

“Not really no,” Finn says. 

Beck pulls the courier aside, and Finn goes through the tedious process of pulling prints from the letter. Though he gets a few partials and even two clear complete thumbprints, he’s sure none of the prints are from the Pink Diamond. After Beck finishes taking the courier’s statement and comes back over to Finn’s desk, Finn puts on a pair of gloves.

“You think we should wear masks?” Finn asks. “Just in case?”

“If it makes you feel better,” Beck says, sounding amused, “but I think he likes you. He did send you that very nice hand-embroidered linen handkerchief, remember?” 

“True. Okay.” Finn takes his letter opener and carefully opens the top of the envelope, peering in. “No powder or anything.”

“Not another hanky?” 

“Looks like a letter. More non-existent prints to dust for,” Finn says. 

“I promise I won’t tell Kurt if it turns out the Pink Diamond wrote you a love letter,” Beck says. “See what it says.” 

“It’s— oh, it’s just a list,” Finn says, unfolding the letter inside. “Uh. Natty?” He holds up the letter for Beck to see. “Tell me this list is what I think it is.”

Beck scans the letter quickly, and her mouth drops open slightly. “Hudson,” she says quietly. “That’s— _The Actor_ is still at the Met— but that’s— I don’t understand.” 

“This is a list of Picassos, isn’t it?” 

“No, it’s a list of Picassos that the Silver Fox has stolen,” Beck says, staring at it. “I think we need to go to the Met.” 

“Different handwriting from the envelope. Do you think the Pink Diamond took this list from the Fox?” Finn asks. 

“Is he trying to…” Beck trails off, reading the list again. “Hudson, you know the Pink Diamond better than anyone. Is he trying to show off, or is he trying to help?” 

“If he were showing off, this would’ve come with a diamond or we would’ve found it somewhere. We know he’s not a killer, so maybe he disapproves of art thieves who are?”

“If he’s trying to help, then we definitely need to go to the Met. We know the Silver Fox has replaced some pieces at times, instead of leaving an empty space in the museum or gallery. The only piece on this list that was never reported stolen is _The Actor_. If it really is a fake, the Pink Diamond has information no one else has,” Beck says. “Put that letter in an evidence bag and make copies for us.” 

Finn nods, bagging and copying the letter while Beck calls ahead to the Met. She comes back with a set of keys to one of the cars in her hand, giving it to Finn. 

“You drive,” she says. “I’m going to review everything I ever knew about _The Actor_ and learn more, all on the drive.” 

“Okay,” Finn says. As Finn drives, Beck reads, and when Finn parks, Beck sighs heavily. 

“The good news is, Picasso painted _The Actor_ on the back of another artist’s landscape, so it could be easy to tell if this is a replica. The bad news is, the Met wasn’t happy that I insinuated they could have missed a robbery, much less one that, according to the list, took place eight years ago.” 

“This could be a really short visit, then. Were they taking it down for us?"

“They’re closing the gallery and have a curator waiting,” Beck says, taking out a camera as they pull out their badges at the entrance. “If it is a replica, I’ll call in a lab team, and you and I are going to figure out what else the Pink Diamond might know, and how.” 

Finn nods. “If we can figure out how to contact him, maybe we could work out some kind of deal. If he can give us the Silver Fox…”

“You know they don’t look as favorably on deals like ASAC’s CI got, not now,” Beck warns. “Don’t get too attached to your Pink Diamond.” 

“But ASAC might sign off on it. He knows how useful that kind of partnership can be,” Finn says. 

“You can include the suggestion when you figure out how to contact the Pink Diamond, and if she’s interested, mention it to ASAC,” Beck says, shrugging before looking at the approaching museum official. “Agents Beck and Hudson, white collar division,” she says. “Is this the correct gallery?” 

“If you’ll just follow me,” the woman says, gesturing for Beck and Finn to follow her to the far side of the gallery, where a guard and someone else, presumably the curator, are standing. 

“Go ahead,” Beck says, once they’re standing near the painting and she’s taken a few initial photographs. 

“I think you’re going to be very disappointed, Ms. Beck,” the curator says stiffly.

“ _Agent_ Beck,” Finn says. “And we have a good source.”

“This painting hasn’t been moved since 2015,” the curator explains, as he starts to carefully unhook the painting from the wall. As he lowers it and turns it, the woman from the museum gasps, and Beck leans back, her mouth falling open as she stares, not taking any pictures. “My god,” the curator says under his breath.

The back of the painting is blank. Scratch that – almost blank. Finn squints at the spot near the bottom of the canvas, the marks that Beck is already staring at. “That arrogant son of a bitch,” Beck whispers. “He left a goddamn _note_.”

“What does it say?” the woman from the museum asks. 

Beck shakes her head as she reads it out loud. “ ‘If you can’t tell a Picasso from a replica, you don’t deserve the real thing’.”

“You’re right. He is an arrogant son of a bitch,” Finn says. “We need to get a team in here.”

“I’ll call them now,” Beck says, but before she does, she looks at the museum officials. “I need a list of every security call and false alarm from 2016.” 

“Of course,” the woman from the museum says, taking her own phone off her belt as she glares at the curator. 

“I guess I’d better figure out how to get in touch with the Pink Diamond,” Finn says quietly to Beck.

“How did she know?” Beck says as she types into her phone. “There’s never been any link between the Pink Diamond and the Silver Fox. Their methods aren’t all that overlapping, and they don’t steal the same sorts of things.” 

“You’re right,” Finn says. Something nags at him, though, an unformed thought that suggests he and Beck might _not_ be as right as they think. 

“Has the Pink Diamond ever hit one designer more than others? Leave her a note at that designer’s store. Outside it or out of sight of the cameras for the initial contact,” Beck suggests. 

“I’ll look back through his file. It’s been pretty well-distributed,” Finn says. 

“If the Pink Diamond can really help us get the Silver Fox, I’ll meet with her myself and not even try to arrest her,” Beck says, her eyes still on the back of the replica. “The Fox has always seemed to work alone.” 

“Then maybe he talked,” Finn says. “Ego that big, he has to have told _someone_ along the way.”

Beck nods. “He’s probably insufferable.”

_If it were possible to steal an entire museum and manage to leave France with all of the pieces, Kurt is certain that is what Gabe would do, empty out the Picasso Museum and return to the United States with all of its collection. Their recon of the museum and its security measures, as well as the exact placement of the targeted sculpture, had taken far longer than usual as Gabe had lingered in each gallery._

_“Is this where the one you’re looking for would be displayed, if it were found?” Kurt asks._

_“Probably. Eventually.” Gabe presses his lips together in a tight frown. “But not yet.”_

_“We could take a second piece,” Kurt suggests as they leave._

_“Or we could continue with my plan, without any frivolous additional risks,” Gabe says._

_“Something you love isn’t frivolous, is it?”_

_“So thoughtful,” Gabe says, turning to Kurt and reaching for his face. He holds Kurt’s chin in his hand and stares into Kurt’s eyes for a moment too long for simple affection. “But we can always come back to Paris.”_

_“It’s a lovely city,” Kurt agrees. “And the Picasso collection is unparalleled.” He tries to turn his head away, but Gabe’s hand holds him there._

_“Have I ever told you why I enjoy Picasso’s works so much?” Gabe asks. Kurt shakes his head as much as he can. “Some people find his works ugly. His Cubist works in particular can be visually jarring to the untrained eye, but I’ve always found a certain kinship with how Picasso saw the world. He took something pretty,” Gabe’s thumb strokes along Kurt’s bottom lip, “and he tore it apart, he destroyed it, and then he reassembled the pieces into something new and even more beautiful.”_

_Kurt suppresses the chill that washes over him at Gabe’s words, because it’s far too easy for Kurt to imagine Gabe tearing_ him _apart and destroying him, all in the name of something Gabe finds more pleasing. Kurt nods instead, gathering his thoughts. “Very few could accomplish that,” he finally says._

_“Indeed,” Gabe says, releasing Kurt’s chin and giving him a rough kiss, one of his teeth nicking Kurt’s bottom lip. Kurt tastes blood as they continue walking, and he runs his tongue over his lip when Gabe is looking elsewhere._

_“What do you need me to do next?” Kurt asks after a few quiet minutes pass._

_“A friend has some tools that I need,” Gabe says. “You can go fetch them for me, while I make sure my intended exit route is unchanged. We’ll meet at the café under the hotel for an early dinner.”_

_“Should I order the wine if I arrive before you?”_

_“No. We’re doing this tonight. There’s nothing to be gained by waiting.”_

_“Okay,” Kurt says, and in the back of his mind, there’s a worrisome sense that something is different. Maybe it’s Gabe’s outright statement of breaking things apart and rearranging them, or maybe something else, but Kurt feels like there’s danger above and beyond the usual rough sex and cold attitude. “Just let me know where I need to go.”_

_“I already have the address for you. Ask for Jean-Michel.” Gabe kisses Kurt again. “We’ll celebrate in the morning, my pretty boy.”_

_Kurt keeps a smile on his face until they go different directions, and on the way to the address Gabe has given Kurt, Kurt stops at a bank. He exchanges almost all of the euros Gabe gave him when they landed for US currency, and he slides the money into his sock before continuing to meet Jean-Michel. Of all the places that Gabe might grab without warning, Kurt’s foot is not one of them._

_Jean-Michel is, Kurt guesses, in his forties, and apart from the horrible scar on his face, he looks like someone who was once very handsome. “Jean-Michel?” Kurt says. “Gabe sent me.”_

_Jean-Michel blanches, nodding his head rapidly. “Yes, yes, I still have it! Tell him it is all still here, as he left it last time.” He ducks into a back room and returns with a small, plain brown satchel._

_“Thank you,” Kurt says, wondering at the look on Jean-Michel’s face. “Do I need to tell him anything else?”_

_“Tell him— tell him I regret we cannot meet personally on this visit, but I am headed to the country for a cousin’s wedding,” Jean-Michel says. It’s so blatantly a lie that he actually looks apologetic about telling it._

_“Felicitations to your cousin,” Kurt says softly, nodding before Jean-Michel closes the door. He wonders how, exactly, Jean-Michel knows Gabe, and he wonders, too, what Jean-Michel knows_ about _Gabe._

_Kurt takes the satchel directly to their hotel room, and after a minute’s thought, puts the chain lock on the door and turns on the faucet. He searches half of the room carefully and thoroughly for his current passport before removing his shirt and putting on shaving cream; he finds the passport before the shaving cream can drip on anything, and he puts the passport in his other shoe before actually shaving. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do, and maybe he’s overreacting to the feeling in the back of his mind, but the worst thing that could happen from overreacting would be having to ‘find’ the passport while Gabe looks on, the next morning._

_He finishes shaving and reaches the hotel café before Gabe returns, giving Kurt enough time to drink a glass of water, the adrenaline rush of searching the room fading somewhat. Dinner, after Gabe arrives, is as normal as Kurt expects for a dinner just before a job. The time waiting between dinner and the job also passes as Kurt expects, with the too-rough sex that Kurt knows is essentially a ritual for Gabe. Even the job itself is straightforward up to a point, the two of them gaining access to the Picasso Museum without incident._

_No alarm sounds as they take the sculpture or leave, and they’re a block away from the museum itself when Gabe stiffens. His head swivels towards the alleyway, where a young man is leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette, a bottle of alcohol in a paper sack in his hand. Gabe’s hand goes to the metal cuff bracelet on his wrist. Kurt realizes that Gabe is drawing a long metal wire from it, hooking a loop on the end around his other thumb._

_Years of being with Gabe hasn’t kept Kurt from asking questions, but this time, something, the same worrisome feeling, does stop him, and he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even make direct eye contact, watching Gabe with a sidelong glance. He watches as Gabe approaches the young man, hands down so the wire doesn’t catch the light, and asks in his beautifully-fluent French for directions to_ Rue Molière _._

_Before the young man can answer, the wire flashes, and Gabe has it looped around the man’s neck, pulling back and twisting. The man drops to his knees, barely able to gasp as the wire cuts into his throat. Dark blood pours from the gash the wire opens. The young man’s eyes roll back to show only the whites before he sags forward, limp and bleeding. Gabe wipes the wire with the untucked hem of the man’s shirt before retracting it into his cuff bracelet and calmly swaggering back over to Kurt._

_“Straight back to the hotel?” Kurt asks, deliberately not looking towards the man’s body and fighting the urge to either vomit or scream._

_“Yes. We’re right on schedule,” Gabe says, sounding pleased and not at all out of breath._

_Kurt swallows down the bile in his throat all the way back to the hotel, and he forces himself to smile at Gabe with his tone light. Before they go into the hotel, Kurt pauses, like a thought has only just occurred to him._

_“I’ll go down to that little shop down the street,” Kurt offers. “I’ll pick the perfect wine for us to celebrate with.”_

_“You’re sure you don’t want to celebrate in our room first?” Gabe asks, a teasing tone in his voice. “I’m turning you into quite the little hedonist, aren’t I? Art and sex_ and _wine, all at once?”_

_“Oh yes,” Kurt says, forcing warmth into his voice. “And this way, I don’t have to leave the room again this evening.”_

_Gabe pulls Kurt close and kisses him slowly and deeply before pulling away. “So thoughtful. Hurry back, pretty little boy.”_

_“I will,” Kurt promises, keeping the smile on his face as he walks away, even after he hears the hotel door open and shut. A glance behind him confirms that Gabe isn’t outside, but he doesn’t start to walk faster until he rounds the corner. His speed keeps increasing as he goes past the wine shop, and he’s almost running by the time he reaches the taxi stand where, thankfully, there are empty taxis waiting._

_Kurt climbs into the closest one, shutting the door hard and trying to ignore the way his hands are shaking. “Aéroport, s’il vous plaît,” he says to the driver. “Rapidement.”_

_The driver nods, and Kurt’s hands are still shaking as he pulls out the money from one shoe and the passport from the other. He puts the money in his wallet, pulling out the remaining euros in order to pay his fare, and he stares at the clock in the taxi, trying to decide when exactly Gabe will realize something is amiss. Kurt is certain that he kept up the appropriate façade even as he was leaving, and he’s almost as confident that he has arrived at the ticket counter before Gabe has a real inkling that Kurt has left._

_Kurt asks for the next flight out of Paris that will also get him home to New York, which ends up meaning he has a very brief layover at Heathrow. He pays for that ticket regardless of the layover, and some of the tension in his body drains out as soon as the wheels leave French soil, and even more leaves when they touch down in England. While Kurt is waiting at Heathrow, he locks himself in a small bathroom, intended for families with children, and fills up the sink with water before dropping his phone into it. He watches the screen die, then counts to three hundred slowly before retrieving the phone and draining the sink. He tosses his phone in a nearly-full trash can near a food vendor, and he mentally starts trying to decide on the best way to get rid of the passport once he’s back in New York._

_The plane lands at four in the morning, Eastern time, and Kurt purchases a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from a newsstand before doing anything else. He burns the passport in the ashtray in the deserted outdoor smoking area, burning his fingertips when he picks up the remaining large pieces so he can throw them away properly. When he gets home, he’s exhausted, but he knows that he’s made a decision he can’t take back, and he has to move as well._

_Kurt pays too much money as a deposit on a new apartment in a controlled-access building, but it’s money he has in part thanks to Gabe, and he shows the security head several pictures of Gabe with explicit directions that he is under no circumstances to be allowed in the building. He leaves behind more of his own things than he takes, and he forces himself to order at least a bed and a mattress for delivery the next day before allowing himself to lie down in the middle of his new, empty apartment. Even though most of him knows he did exactly what he had to do, he still ends the very long day by crying himself to sleep._

When Kurt lets him know he’s waiting in the lobby, Finn rides the elevator down to meet him. Even though he saw Kurt just five hours ago before leaving for work, he’s still excited to see him. He can’t think of the last time he felt like this about someone. Maybe he never has, at least not as strongly as he feels about Kurt.

Finn exits the elevator with a smile at Kurt, who’s leaning against the wall looking like he’s been hired to stand there and look handsome to improve the look of the lobby. 

“Hi,” Kurt says, smiling at Finn as he straightens. 

“Hi,” Finn says. “Nice to see you.” 

“It’s good to see you, too,” Kurt says, giving Finn a brief kiss and taking his hand as they turn towards the doors. 

“I’m glad to see you know him, Agent,” the man at the front desk says to Finn as they pass. 

“Was he giving you trouble or something?” Finn asks. 

“No, no, just we had noticed him hanging around the building a few evenings, a week or two ago.” 

“A _few_?” Finn says, looking over at Kurt, whose face is getting pinker and pinker. “I thought you just happened to get the timing right that night.”

“Practice makes perfect?” Kurt offers, looking sheepishly at the front desk before glancing back at Finn. “I don’t think it’s my fault you apparently had to work late several nights.” 

“It’s sweet,” Finn says. He gives Kurt a kiss on the cheek and squeezes his hand. 

“At the very least, you shouldn’t doubt how much I wanted this,” Kurt says. 

Finn smiles. “I would never doubt you.”

“You should doubt me if I ever say the cheapest wine is just as good as better wine,” Kurt says playfully. “Speaking of places without wine, though, how does a good hamburger sound for lunch?” 

“I’ll always eat a burger. You know a place?”

“It’s a few stops away, near Fulton Street, as long as you’ve got the time,” Kurt says. “Relatively new, maybe four or five months?” 

“Sounds great,” Finn says. They hold hands to the subway station and once they’re on the train, Finn puts his arm around Kurt. Kurt leans against Finn, a small, content smile on his face. The restaurant is three blocks from the subway, and Kurt looks almost pensive as they’re seated. 

“Your day’s going well?” Kurt asks. 

“Yeah. We’re still working on the Silver Fox thing. How about you?” Finn asks. 

“I’m working on a new project,” Kurt says. “It’ll be the last project like it, though. Which is a good thing. Different opportunities and all of that, but it’s still a little odd and bittersweet.” 

“Yeah, I understand,” Finn says. “So, what’s the project?”

“Oh, a retrospective,” Kurt says. “But the new things should be less time-intensive. More fun.” 

“Neat. I’m glad you like your job,” Finn says. 

“I do, but I like being able to leave it behind at the end of the work day, too,” Kurt says, and he looks up from the menu to smile at Finn. 

“Yeah,” Finn says, returning the smile. “I wish I were better at doing that with mine.”

“Oh? Would you like some help with that?” 

“I don’t know what you could do, other than distracting me. Not that I have a problem with that.”

“I think I could be very, very good at distracting you,” Kurt says. “Don’t you?” 

“Oh, I’m absolutely sure you could. Sometimes I get distracted at work, just thinking about you,” Finn says. 

“Maybe tomorrow for lunch, we should meet at your apartment.” 

“I’m not sure if that would make me more or less distracted at work, Kurt,” Finn says. 

Kurt’s foot slides across Finn’s ankle and barely under the hem of Finn’s pants, and his smile gets bigger. “Probably more distracted before lunch,” he says, “but is that really such a horrible thing?” 

“Horrible isn’t the word I’d use,” Finn says. 

“No? Me either,” Kurt says. His foot moves higher on Finn’s leg. “It’s convenient your apartment isn’t too far from your office.” 

“Yeah. It’s kind of far from yours, though,” Finn says. 

“Tomorrow’s a writing day, which means I can work almost anywhere,” Kurt says. “It’s only a problem if it’s a meeting day, but that was yesterday.” Kurt’s foot is still sliding slowly over Finn’s leg. “It’s still not as far as it could be.” 

“You could work from home, even?”

“I could,” Kurt agrees. 

“Could you work from _my_ home?” Finn asks. 

Kurt’s smile gets wider and he looks even more pleased. “I could in fact do that.” 

“You could maybe keep some stuff at my place, so you’d have it there if you needed it,” Finn says. 

“For when I need to stay,” Kurt says, nodding and taking Finn’s hand after reaching across the table. Finn runs his thumbs over the back of Kurt’s hand. Kurt squeezes Finn’s hand lightly, his foot starting to move on Finn’s leg again. “It could happen relatively often.” 

“I’d like that, a lot,” Finn says. 

Kurt nods again. “Me too,” he says. “I definitely think I might need to this weekend. Or I should say, a potentially long weekend, even if we have to work Friday during the day.” 

“Yeah, I think that sounds great,” Finn says. “Bring some stuff tonight?”

“I will. And how does a show Thursday night sound? It’s still in previews, but it’s supposed to be good.” 

“If we don’t end up with something pressing at work, I’d love to,” Finn says. 

“Tell all the criminals you’re busy?” 

“I’ll tell Sobol he’s on call,” Finn says. “Probie doesn’t need to have Thursday evening plans.”

Kurt laughs. “I’d feel sorry for him, but since it ensures you’re free, I don’t at all.” 

“I don’t feel sorry for him, either,” Finn says. 

“I do, however, feel very happy for us.”

The first thing Beck does on Wednesday morning, after arriving eleven minutes late, is walk over to Finn’s desk and put a bag on it with a loud ‘thunk’, looking proud of herself at the same time.

"Do I even want to ask?" Finn says.

“They’re plastic, so you can leave them outside, and they’re pink, so she’ll know they’re for her,” Beck says, pulling out a letter-size pink plastic envelope from the bag and holding it up. 

“Oh my God, Natty. That’s ridiculous!”

“It can rain and nothing will happen to the notes you leave,” Beck says smugly. “You should start with the last two places she hit.” 

“Do I write ‘Pink Diamond’ on it with black marker? Do you think he knows what we call him?” Finn asks. 

“She put a diamond on your handkerchief, didn’t she? Maybe draw a diamond on the front.” 

“Yeah, there’s nothing weird at all about leaving big pink envelopes all over the city,” Finn says. 

“The Pink Diamond knows something about the Silver Fox,” Beck says. “Come on, Hudson. It’s worth a shot, right? Put them outside of where the surveillance cameras would pick her up, and maybe she’ll send you another letter.” 

“It’s worth a shot,” Finn agrees. “Why do you always have to be so right, Natty?”

“Good genetics,” Beck says with a shrug. “What are you going to say? Make sure to tell her I say thanks for the information so far.” 

“I’m going to ask how he knows, I guess.”

Beck frowns a little and leans against Finn’s desk. “That is a good question. The Silver Fox’s never worked with anyone, at least not that’s been noted in any file I’ve seen. And the Pink Diamond also works solo.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. He has the same niggling feeling, that they’re missing something, but it still hasn’t quite formed into a concrete idea he can share. 

“Maybe we missed a point where they were working in the same city the same week or something?” Beck says. “Maybe they had a drink and the Fox bragged.”

“If you’ve got a minute, we should go over the lists together.”

“I think I need to make a minute for it. The Pink Diamond’s list of Picassos only went through 2018, though,” Beck says. She stands up and goes over to her desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a file before returning to Finn’s desk, dragging her chair with her. “We know the Silver Fox has been operating for a long time.” 

“And the Pink Diamond started around 2018,” Finn says. 

“White collar criminal convention?” Beck jokes, pulling a piece of paper out of her file. “Has the Pink Diamond ever operated in Venice?” 

“Florence and Milan,” Finn says. 

“Barcelona?”

“No. Berlin or Paris for the Fox?”

“Paris, more than once, but there’s a museum there devoted solely to Picasso,” Beck says. “I feel like we’re missing something. This isn’t friendly at all on your Pink Diamond’s part.” 

“Maybe they were both after the same thing in Paris,” Finn says. 

“The Silver Fox has been almost exclusively stealing Picassos for years now, though,” Beck says. “Has the Pink Diamond ever stolen anything that _wasn’t_ couture? Or a glass tree?” 

“A few small pieces, but none of it ever popped up on the black market that we know of.”

“So the couture keeps him solvent?” Beck looks amused. “The Silver Fox used to steal things that weren’t Picasso, and those were what he sold. Nothing’s been tied to him recently, though.” She sighs and pushes the piece of paper towards Finn. “Tell me you see something I’m missing.” 

Finn looks at the paper and sighs. “Nothing’s jumping out at me. Sorry, Natty. Maybe it really just is Silver Fox bragging.”

Beck sighs again. “Tell me you have an idea of how he switched out _The Actor_ at the Met without a security alarm. I’ve combed over that list from 2016, and there was only one false alarm. NYPD responded within two minutes. There’s no way he could have gotten in and out of the gallery without being spotted. Every other security alarm is associated with a specific incident or intruder.” 

“We know he’s good at B&E, so we’ll go ahead and assume he bypassed the alarm entirely,” Finn says. 

Beck shakes her head. “If he could actually bypass the alarm in 2016, he would have been carrying out a lot more swaps like this. Interpol’s had galleries around the world checking since last week, and no one’s found even a second swap.” 

“Maybe he did have a partner, then. Maybe it’s the partner who talked.”

“Maybe. The man who left that note, though… he wouldn’t share details with just anyone,” Beck says. She picks up the paper and puts it back into the file, standing up and starting to drag her chair back to her desk. “I’m going to look over the list the Pink Diamond sent again, compare the international thefts with the Interpol files.” 

“There has to be something,” Finn says. “I feel like it’s right here staring us in the face and we’re missing it.”

“We’ll think of it. Or it’ll smack us in the face,” Beck says. “One or the other.”

Despite working from Finn’s apartment on both Wednesday and Thursday, Kurt insists that Finn meets him at the theatre for the show. Kurt goes to his own apartment to change. He’s waiting on the sidewalk outside the theatre when Finn gets there, and Finn spots Kurt before Kurt sees him. Kurt looks faintly amused as he watches the people around him, but his face shifts into a wide smile as he sees Finn approaching.

“I hope I look okay for this,” Finn says, gesturing at his suit. “Some of these people are in jeans.”

“Some people are underdressed. You look fine,” Kurt says as he takes Finn’s arm. “Those people probably aren’t having dinner afterwards, either.” 

“But we are, huh?”

“Complimentary dinner, actually,” Kurt admits. “Occasionally I have to put together recommendations for _Vogue_ employees traveling from overseas, based on what is newly opened.” 

“Nice,” Finn says. “You look really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. Are you ready to experience what I keep thinking of as _Emo: The Musical_?” 

“That’s really a vote of confidence in how good it’s going to be, Kurt. Thanks.”

Kurt laughs. “I’m not the one that decided to use Fall Out Boy songs on Broadway.”

It’s not as bad as Finn had thought it could be, but there’s no doubt that by intermission, they’re both glad it’s halfway over. Kurt puts his hand on Finn’s thigh and leans his head against Finn’s shoulder, squeezing his hand gently. 

“Should we talk about anything _but_ emo music for the duration of intermission?” Kurt asks. 

“Why don’t you tell me what you were working on today and yesterday?” Finn says. 

“Most of it was research and writing context articles to frame around the features that we’ll put together after Fashion Week. I did spend an hour and a half on a conference call discussing where, exactly, _Vogue_ should host its Fashion Week soiree.” 

“Did you get it figured out?”

“Our first choice is going to be at the Met, provided it can be reserved. Specifically, the Costume Institute,” Kurt says. 

Finn nods. “Oh, yeah, I bet that’ll be perfect,” he says. “I’ve been in there a couple times for—” He cuts himself off with a sharp intake of breath as the previously unformed thought that had been nagging him for days suddenly crystallizes.

“For what?” Kurt says, lifting his head and looking at Finn. 

“I need to call Natty,” Finn says. “I’ll be back in before intermission is over, okay?”

“Okay,” Kurt says, sounding startled, but he leans over and gives Finn a quick kiss before moving his hand from Finn’s thigh. Finn stands and hurries out to the lobby, already calling Beck’s number.

“Hudson?” Beck says when she answers. “I thought you were going somewhere tonight.” 

“Yeah, I am, I’m at this musical with Kurt, but Natty, I figured it out!”

“Figured what out?” Beck asks. 

“The connection. It’s those fucking gloves,” Finn says. “I’d bet you my badge they were taken the same night as the Picasso!”

“The gl— the cold case. From 2016,” Beck says. “You think the Pink Diamond was _with_ the Silver Fox?” 

“I do, and I think the gloves were the distraction,” Finn says.

“I’m not in front of my files. Do you think they worked together other times?” 

“Maybe earlier, before the gloves. Nothing after, I don’t think. Shit, Natty, they weren’t _partners_. Think about how sloppy the security work was on the Diamond’s first European jobs. Think about how much better the forgeries were.”

“The Pink Diamond parted ways with the Silver Fox, and now she’s willing, maybe, to help us find the Silver Fox. Whatever made them stop working together, it wasn’t amicable,” Beck says. “Do we go back and look for evidence of a second person at the Silver Fox’s scenes?” 

“I think that’s the place to start. Silver Fox is your guy, so you’re the one who—” The lights blink to dim and then back on. “Intermission’s almost over. I need to get back in.”

“Go. Have a good evening. I’ll see you bright and early,” Beck says. “Tell Kurt I said ‘hi’.” 

“Will do,” Finn says. He drops the phone into his pocket and hurries back to his seat next to Kurt, kissing him as soon as he’s seated.

“Everything okay?” Kurt whispers. 

“Yeah. I’ll explain at dinner. You may have just given us a major break in two open cases.”

“Me?” 

“Yep,” Finn says. He puts his hand high on Kurt’s thigh as the lights go out and the music starts to play again. After a few seconds, Kurt’s hand rests on top of Finn’s, squeezing it gently. 

The second half of the musical isn’t significantly better than the first half, but at least it does seem slightly shorter. When the lights come up, Kurt turns to Finn with his eyebrows raised. “At least we’ve seen it before most of the buzz?” 

“Oh yeah, at least there’s that,” Finn says. “Dinner?”

“I hope you’re in the mood for Vietnamese?”

“Sure,” Finn says.

“Excellent. We can walk, and you can explain how I inadvertently gave the FBI assistance?” 

“Sure,” Finn repeats. He offers Kurt an arm, and they leave the theatre, walking in the direction Kurt indicates. Once they’re away from most of the theatre crowd, Finn says, “Remember the gloves I told you about?”

“The ones that were lesser quality compared to others?” Kurt asks, nodding a little. 

“Well, compared to the stuff that started showing up in Europe a couple years later,” Finn says. “I think they’re our connection between Silver Fox and the Pink Diamond.”

“Oh? How so?”

“You know how we found the fake painting at the Met, but we couldn’t figure out when it was switched?”

“Right. The one that the Met hadn’t realized was a forgery,” Kurt says, nodding again. 

“We didn’t initially connect the two, but now we think it might have been switched the same night as those gloves,” Finn says. “Which at least suggests Natty’s Silver Fox and my Pink Diamond may have been working together.”

“And how does that fit in with the other speculation you had about the Pink Diamond?”

“It means I need to look for thefts starting earlier than I originally thought. It means he may have a lot more info on the Silver Fox.”

“That would be good, wouldn’t it?” Kurt asks. “Though I suppose it’s odd to find him helping you?” 

“I don’t know. Wouldn’t be the first time a thief and the FBI have worked together,” Finn says.

“That’s true. It’s just another block this way. So do you think your Pink Diamond would be offered something like… what did you say his nickname was? James Bonds?” 

“Maybe. It’s hard to say. The FBI doesn’t offer deals like that very often, especially considering how things ended with Caffrey,” Finn says. 

“I suppose that would be a deterrent,” Kurt says. “Well, I’m glad I could inadvertently help you make that connection, at least.” 

“Yeah. You’re good for me, you know? You make me think about things I wouldn’t think about otherwise,” Finn says. He stops walking and turns to Kurt, putting his hand on the side of Kurt’s face. “You’re just plain good for me.”

Kurt smiles, leaning his head into Finn’s hand. “Good. I’m glad. I know you’re good for me, too.” 

“I’m glad you gave me another chance after I screwed it up,” Finn says, leaning forward to give Kurt a soft kiss on the mouth. Kurt wraps his arm around Finn and lengthens the kiss into something probably a little too long for a sidewalk in the middle of Manhattan. 

“You didn’t screw anything up,” Kurt says, his fingers lingering on Finn’s tie. “Let’s go eat so I can enjoy taking this off of you.” 

“It’s a nice tie, huh? A really hot guy gave it to me,” Finn says. 

Kurt smiles. “It is nice. It’ll be even nicer when that guy takes it off and puts it on your floor.”

_Kurt throws himself into his work at_ Vogue _, preparing for Fashion Week, and he does his best to not think about Gabe. He goes to work early or late, a different time every day, and does the same with when he leaves. A few nights, he sleeps at_ Vogue _, waiting until the streets are crowded mid-morning to run home, shower, and change clothes. He doesn’t see Gabe at all, not even out of the corner of his eye, and he doesn’t know if that makes him lucky, good, or blind. Gabe knows too much about Kurt’s routine and Kurt’s likes, which means that Kurt has to change everything. Different dry cleaner, different bodega, different Starbucks._

_He still doesn’t see Gabe, even when he stops abruptly going around corners or ducking into doorways, but Kurt knows he’ll be jumpy for a long time, if not years. Three weeks after Paris, Kurt realizes that he has to make most of the changes permanent, however much he had hoped otherwise. He spends money that he doesn’t really have to purchase a new personal laptop, deleting several contacts from his old one before trashing it._

_It’s during a party, right in the middle of Fashion Week, that Kurt realizes he’s mentally cataloging the security measures. He’s halfway through a plan in his mind, in fact, before he catches himself. Everything Gabe had drilled into him is still there, and he pushes it out of his mind for a few hours so he can enjoy the rest of the party, and then for a few days so he can get through the remainder of Fashion Week._

_The next Tuesday, though, as Kurt runs on the treadmill in the basement of his new apartment building, he has to acknowledge that using the knowledge would satisfy him in more than one way, and also help solve his budget problems. He’s paid well considering his lack of college education, thanks in large part to Isabelle’s advocacy on his behalf, but he’s also expected to maintain a residence in Manhattan and wear a large, rotating selection of designer clothing, and his years with Gabe have left him with lingering tastes for fine dining, expensive wine, and lots of relatively expensive nights out. Even a few jobs could solve his cash flow problems nearly indefinitely, and as long as as he doesn’t attempt to take pieces that Gabe might desire, Kurt can probably avoid him._

_There’s another advantage to keeping his hand in, so to speak, in that Kurt can listen for whispers of what Gabe might be doing. It would help him breathe easier on occasion, when he knows that Gabe is overseas, and that alone provides a great deal of temptation. There’s also something about it that appeals to Kurt as a way of saying ‘fuck you’ to Gabe, to not letting how it ended take away the hard work and time that he put into learning how to create exquisite replicas._

_Kurt knows that he doesn’t have the technical expertise that Gabe possesses to help him completely bypass security measures, which means that he spends the next year devoting himself to improving the quality of his replicas. He sets his eyes on Paris Fashion Week and a few select vintage pieces that he knows will be on display. The temporary nature of the security measures will make it easier for Kurt to get to the actual items, and he lines up buyers in advance of his completely legitimate trip to Paris for_ Vogue _._

_By a week after Kurt returns to the United States, he has a new set of falsified documents for himself, and within a few months, he has a small studio down from the Diamond District, rent paid in cash, as well as plans for future jobs. Kurt doesn’t stop looking over his shoulder for Gabe, but he feels better. He’ll keep doing what Gabe started teaching him, but better: better quality replicas, and no one getting hurt._

With no new leads and no response yet from the Pink Diamond, the Silver Fox case gets pushed to the back burner for a few weeks in favor of dealing with more pressing, less exciting cases of corporate fraud, insider trading, and an extensive, but dull, pyramid scheme involving a multi-level marketing organic baby food company. They close the cases, but part of Finn’s thoughts are always on the Pink Diamond and the Silver Fox, and he knows Beck’s in the same situation.

With Kurt’s project deadline approaching, Finn is seeing a little less of him, though they still spend at least five nights out of every week together, usually at Finn’s, but sometimes staying over at Kurt’s. Finn makes himself go out and check to see if any of the pink plastic envelopes has moved, but they’re all in the same places he left them. He still methodically pulls on a pair of gloves and checks the inside of each envelope.

He finally finds something when he checks the envelope outside Catwalk Couture, a shop on Park Avenue that sells vintage jewelry originally worn on the runway in Paris and Milan. The paper inside the envelope looks the same, but when Finn unfolds it, it’s actually a letter-sized color sketch of a handsome older man with silver-white hair. The drawing is unsigned, but it does say ‘the one who loves Picasso’ in the corner, written in the Pink Diamond’s flowing script.

Finn immediately calls Beck, not even giving her a chance to finish saying hello before he says, “Natty, get a team up to Catwalk Couture on Park and 50th, stat.”

“Was there a break-in?” Beck demands. 

“Better. Somebody left you another present,” Finn says. “We’ll need prints, security camera footage.”

“Maybe the Pink Diamond likes _me_. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Beck says, sounding pleased. “Give me a hint.” 

“It’ll dress up your wanted posters.”

Beck gasps. “A _picture_?” 

“Maaaaaaaybe,” Finn says. “Come on up here and see for yourself.”

“On my way!” Beck says before ending the call, and she does get there faster than Finn would have thought possible, pulling on gloves as she hurries over to him. “Let me see, let me see.” 

Finn hands Beck the sketch. “Enjoy!”

“Oh my God,” Beck says, taking it carefully in her hands and staring at it. “We’ve never been able to circulate a description. Hudson, do you think your Pink Diamond would let me buy her a drink?” 

“Still don’t think he’s your type, Natty, but he might,” Finn says. 

“Someone will recognize this man. He’s striking-looking, even I can admit that,” Beck says. “Should we— I’ll get a sketch artist to do an age progression, too, in case this is based off, say, 2016?” 

“I guess the Pink Diamond really does know him and want to help,” Finn says. 

Beck nods, still staring at the sketch. “I’m very appreciative.”

“We should get this to Interpol, too. See if they have this face in their database,” Finn says. “He may be connected to another, non–art-related crime.”

“And you need to talk to ASAC.” 

“I think we both do. I think we need to get permission to put out feelers, make the Pink Diamond an offer,” Finn says. 

“Exactly,” Beck says. “The Silver Fox is dangerous. Surely there’s a deal available to help get him behind bars.” 

“I’m not fooling myself into thinking it’ll be anything like the deal with Caffrey, but reduced sentence, immunity from some of the crimes. If the Pink Diamond is reaching out to us, he wants us to catch this guy as much as we do.”

Beck nods. “Then I guess you should write her another letter after you talk to Burke?”

“Yeah. We’ll see what he suggests,” Finn says. “I don’t want to offer anything the FBI isn’t willing or able to give.”

“Let me know if you need me to back up the importance of this, is all I’m saying.” Beck looks up from the sketch and up and down the street. “I always had this weird feeling that I could be walking down the street and pass the Silver Fox and never realize it. That won’t happen now.” 

“No. If we see him now, we’ve got him.”

“Thank you, Pink Diamond, and thank you, Hudson, for writing those letters.” 

Finn nods. “I think we’re getting close, Natty. To both of them.” 

“I would ask what we’re going to do with ourselves after we catch them, but I know what _you_ will be doing,” Beck says, finally looking up from the sketch and grinning at Finn. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Spending more time with Kurt, I suspect.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says, grinning at Beck. “That’ll be nice.”

“That’s what I thought. Go talk to ASAC so you can finish before too late and get back to Kurt,” Beck says as the lab team arrives. “I’ll let you know if we find anything else.” 

“Yeah, thanks, Natty,” Finn says.

He takes a taxi back to the office, taking a few minutes to stop off at his desk and update his notes and collect his thoughts before he walks up to ASAC Burke’s office and taps on the door. 

“Come in,” Burke calls without looking up. 

“Do you have a minute, sir?” Finn asks, walking into the office. “I wanted to talk to you about the Silver Fox case, or more specifically, the Pink Diamond’s role in it.”

“Jones told me that the hunch you and Beck had paid off. Good work,” Burke says, gesturing for Finn to sit down. “What kind of relationship do you think the Pink Diamond has with the Silver Fox?” 

“We’re starting to suspect the Silver Fox may have been more of a mentor than a partner. We’ve always thought the Pink Diamond was younger, so it’s possibly the Silver Fox could’ve taken him—or _her_ , Beck would want me to say, but I still think it’s a him—on as some kind of assistant or protégé.”

“A relationship clearly gone sour. And do you and Agent Beck have a theory about why the Pink Diamond is seemingly helping now?” Burke asks. 

“The Pink Diamond has never been linked to any violent crimes, and we received the list of Picassos shortly after the Gagosian homicides,” Finn says. “We think he may want us to catch the Silver Fox to prevent more murders.”

Burke nods. “What else?” 

“We want— _I_ want to offer him a deal,” Finn says. 

“Are you asking me what kind of deal, or do you have specifics in mind already?” Burke asks. 

“Immunity, maybe, from any crimes committed with the Fox, in exchange for testimony and any evidence against him,” Finn says. “Sir, the Pink Diamond is smart, and like I said, he’s never hurt anyone in the process of committing a crime. He’s proven he wants to help us. He could be a valuable asset to the Bureau.”

Burke is silent for a few moments before putting down his pen and looking at Finn. “The first thing you need to understand is that when you spend as much time pursuing a criminal as you have the Pink Diamond, you start to think that you know them. You don’t. You know a limited amount of information about them, information that they’ve either decided to let you know or that they’ve slipped up and let you find out, and you don’t even know which kind of information you’ve got. The Pink Diamond may be helping with the Silver Fox, but I would place a bet that he—or she—has his own motivations for having the Silver Fox arrested.”

“But if he has the information we need to catch the Fox, shouldn’t we at least try to come to some sort of arrangement with the Pink Diamond?”

“Given the statute of limitations in New York state, what can we really offer?” Burke asks. “My understanding was that it’s been more than three years since the Pink Diamond and the Silver Fox would have worked together.” 

“Then we make him an offer for more recent crimes. We offer to keep him off Interpol's radar, maybe let him serve out his time for the U.S. crimes working for us. He’d be invaluable as a CI, sir, if you’d just—”

“I know it sounds like a great idea,” Burke says, cutting Finn off. “A CI can provide information, yes, but that isn’t anything close to an ideal situation, Agent Hudson. This isn’t one hundred percent a no, but it’s unlikely that I’d sign off on such a deal, even if the higher-ups would. It’s more like ninety-five percent a no. We can work with the idea about Interpol, keep that on the table.” 

“Sir, your conviction rate with Caffrey was 93 percent,” Finn says. “You took down one of the most notorious international crime rings in FBI history.” 

“And Neal—” Burke cuts himself off. “It’s not completely off the table. Keep the lines of communication going in whatever way you and Agent Beck concoct, and we’ll see where we’re at once the investigation progresses.” 

“Yes, sir,” Finn says, standing. “Thank you for your time.”

Burke doesn’t say anything else until Finn is almost out the door. “No matter how close you think you are, a con is a con. They manipulate you,” Burke says. “The question that’s left isn’t if they’re manipulating you, it’s why.” 

“Yes, sir,” Finn repeats softly, then walks out the door. He goes to his desk and sits down, trying not to look as pissed off as he feels that Burke wouldn’t give his idea any consideration, and that he assumes Finn is that naïve. Of course the Pink Diamond wants something, but part of that something involves catching the perp behind multiple brutal murders. Being willing to offer the Pink Diamond a deal in exchange for something that could take a violent criminal off the street doesn’t mean Finn is being manipulated. 

Finn types up a quick message to the Pink Diamond and prints multiple copies, one for each pink plastic envelope. He doesn’t think the Pink Diamond would use the same envelope again. The message says _Trying to get you a deal for your help, but ASAC not convinced. Need something more to show him this isn’t just another con._

Finn goes back around the city, replacing the letters in the envelopes. Afterwards, he heads back into the office to work on paperwork, since Kurt is staying at _Vogue_ late to finish his project and plans to stay at his own place for the next few nights. Finn can get caught up on some of his own paperwork he’s been falling behind on, in favor of spending time and energy on Kurt and on the Pink Diamond/Silver Fox cases. He’ll meet Kurt the next day for lunch and vent a little about ASAC and the case.

_Kurt calls his father less frequently than he knows he should, which is why he has a reminder set in his phone every year during specific weeks. The spring/summer Fashion Weeks over, his phone chimes during the first week of October, and Kurt schedules a time to call Burt._

_Their conversation lasts around an hour, never touching on anything too deep or meaningful, and it’s near the end of the hour when Burt mentions in passing that Finn had just let them know only a day or two earlier that he was being transferred from the Atlanta office to the New York field office. Burt suggests that Kurt should call or otherwise contact Finn, and Kurt makes a note on a piece of paper to do just that, after a few more weeks pass._

_Having a brother in the FBI is not the situation Kurt would have chosen, given his own illegal hobbies, but Kurt supposes it’s his own fault for continuing with those hobbies even after Finn’s announcement that he was going to Quantico. October bleeds into November before Kurt remembers to call Finn, and since he’s left the call so long, he decides to ask about Finn’s Thanksgiving plans, either as pretext or apology, depending on how his silence has seemed to Finn._

_He times the call as well as he can, just after five on a Monday afternoon, thinking that Finn probably isn’t having to pull too much overtime if he’s just transferred to the city, and as the phone rings, Kurt goes into an empty conference room at_ Vogue _and closes the door._

_“Hello?” Finn says._

_“Hello, Finn,” Kurt says. “A little bird told me you’ve landed in the same city as me.”_

_“Yeah, hey! I got here almost two months ago. Still getting settled, but the work is good and my new apartment is nice.”_

_“And being the newest member of the team, is it safe to assume you aren’t taking off a long period of time around Thanksgiving?” Kurt asks._

_“Yeah, I’ll get day of off, but that’s it,” Finn says. “Figured I’d get a turkey sandwich or something.”_

_“Or you can join me for take-out turkey and stuffing, along with a fresh pie from the bakery near my apartment,” Kurt says. “Beer or wine, take your pick.”_

_“That sounds great. I usually drink beer, but wine’s fine, if that’s what you’ve got,” Finn says._

_“I usually get both. I call it my bachelor Thanksgiving,” Kurt says._

_“Sounds fun. Thanks for asking me! I haven’t really met anybody outside the Bureau, and the only person I’ve really hit it off with here is Natty.”_

_“Natty?”_

_“Agent Natalie Beck. Her family calls her Natty. I met her parents my second week on the job and heard ’em calling her that, so now I do it to bug her,” Finn says. “She likes it when I bug her. You’d like her. She’s an art history major, came up from DC Art Crimes.”_

_“You met her parents_ already _?” Kurt asks, his eyebrows raising. “Moving fast, Finn.”_

_Finn laughs loudly. “Yeah, because they came into the office. I am definitely not her type.”_

_“You can’t blame me for wondering!”_

_“I’m way too much a dude for Natty, trust me. She’s about as interested in me as you would be in her,” Finn says._

_“Duly noted,” Kurt says. “So what kind of office are you in that you need an art history major?”_

_“White collar crimes, so it’s a mix of fraud, scams, high-dollar theft, stuff like that. We end up working a lot of art-related crimes, too, since the Art Crimes division is tiny and doesn’t have a branch in New York.”_

_Kurt is very glad he took the precaution of going into the conference room, because he can feel his eyes widening and he needs to focus on controlling his breathing and tone of voice. Of course Finn would end up in the one office that would ever see any of Kurt’s own criminal activity. “I’m not sure if that sounds exciting or dull,” he says before too many seconds pass, his voice light._

_“Mostly pretty boring, but I might be getting a couple interesting cases soon. The ASAC—Assistant Special Agent-in-Charge—is great, has a lot of experience with international fraud and forgery cases!”_

_“You can tell me about some of it on Thanksgiving, then, and I’ll tell you about some international fashion,” Kurt says. “It’s nice we’re in the same city again, even if we both have busy schedules.”_

_“Yeah, it is nice, and hey, we might even end up working together some time! One of the cases I may get assigned to is fashion crime. I didn’t even realize there_ was _fashion crime before I got reassigned here!” Finn says._

_Kurt laughs. “And not the kind of fashion crime I’m sure I accused you of many times in high school.”_

_Finn laughs, too. “Yeah, luckily, I can’t arrest anybody for that.”_

_“And probably very good for everyone I was never deputized regarding that,” Kurt admits. “I’ll send you my apartment number after this, and I’ll see you in a little over a week?”_

_“Definitely. Thanks for the invitation, Kurt.”_

_“You’re welcome. See you soon.” Kurt ends the call and stares out the window of the conference room. There’s no reason to think that Finn will be assigned any of Kurt’s thefts, and if it happens, Kurt’ll handle it then._

Finn gets back to his apartment at a reasonable hour for a Wednesday, opens up a beer, and sits down to watch the game. He does _not_ mope like Beck said he would, even if it’s another consecutive night of Kurt working late hours at _Vogue_ to finish his project. Maybe Kurt will finish faster than he thought and at least come for the night, even if he can’t come for a beer and a ball game.

At the top of the 8th, Finn’s phone rings. “Hudson speaking,” he says. 

“Your Pink Diamond hasn’t gone straight,” Burke says, somewhat smugly. “The Museum at FIT.” 

“Shit,” Finn mutters to himself. “Yes, sir. I'll get right over there. Is anybody else headed that way?”

“I’ll let Sobol know. Preliminary report from NYPD suggests it’s not an extensive scene,” Burke says.

“If it’s the Pink Diamond, it could be more extensive than they think,” Finn admits. He’s already on his feet, turning off the game and looking for his tie and jacket.

“I’ll notify a lab team, too. The rest I’ll leave for you to assess. Report to me first thing,” Burke says. 

“Yes, sir. I will.” Finn ends the call, tossing his phone into his jacket pocket before he pulls the jacket on. He sighs in the general direction of his unfinished, but still cold second beer, then hurries out of the apartment, flagging a cab at the curb. 

NYPD has the scene taped off and several officers shining flashlights on the door as a lab tech appears to take fingerprints. They step out of the way to let Finn pass, after a quick flash of his badge, and another officer and a FIT security guard walk him through the building to the scene.

“It was exactly like this when you found it?” Finn ask, gesturing at the display case. 

“The alarm was triggered half an hour after the museum closed,” the security guard says as she nods. “Nothing registered, but then I noticed this case.” 

The case the guard indicates is empty, though the small placard on it says the case contains shoes. Finn nods.

“Were any other cases empty or disturbed?” he asks. “Have all the displays been checked?”

“Empty, no, but different, yeah,” the security guard says, pointing to a different, smaller display case. Finn leans over to look at the placard.

“This says it’s for a bag, and there’s a bag in the case, but you're telling me it’s not the same bag, right?” Finn asks. 

“This is a Chanel exhibit. That’s not a Chanel bag,” the security guard says. “Wrong size and color, too. These guys said I should wait for you to open the case. Should I do that now?” 

Finn looks at the bag and nods again. “If you can do it without disturbing what’s inside, then yes. Gloves, please.” As the security guard dons a pair of gloves Finn hands to her and lifts the top of the case, Finn takes out his phone and calls Beck.

“Hudson, I’m not good at listening to moping,” Beck says when she answers.

“On one of the Fox’s jobs a while back, he stole a bag, didn’t he? I remember because it stood out in the middle of the paintings and sculptures on the list,” Finn says.

“Try more like a decade ago, an original Birkin. Why? Stop working and drink instead of moping.” 

“What color was the bag?”

“A dark brown leather. What is this, Hudson?” 

“I’m pretty sure I’m staring at it in a display case at FIT that’s supposed to be holding something by Chanel,” Finn says. “Plus, it looks like it has a note attached.”

“That predates the Met. What’s the note say?” Beck asks. “And should I meet you there or at the office?” 

“Office. The scene is small and Sobol’s on his way, lab team’s already here. I’ll send you a pic of the note,” Finn says.

“You’d better. See you there,” Beck says, then the call ends. 

Finn dons his own pair of gloves and carefully slides the note out from under the bag’s handles. The note is actually two pieces of paper folded together, the outside sheet having ‘Agent Hudson’ written on it in a familiar handwriting. He unfolds the papers, trying to handle only the edges.

_Agent Hudson,_

_The enclosed is a list of all the aliases I know for the man I know as Gabe Fortier. Let your ASAC know that I believe that we all have the same goal: for him not to hurt anyone else? I don’t have to be conning anyone in order to want to help with that._

_We’ve come to an ending. It probably seems odd to announce my retirement, but I’ve found something better. Greener, legal pastures. I do think I’ll come shake your hand in three years and a day, so don’t transfer to another city. There’s no deal necessary this way._

_I’ll continue to contact you until the FBI has Gabe behind bars or I have no new information for you._

At the bottom of the note is a small sketch of a diamond, filled in with pink colored pencil. 

“Well, damn,” Finn says. He takes out his phone and snaps a picture of each page, sending them to Beck.

“Do you need anything else from me?” the security guard asks. “I need to contact my supervisor again.” 

“No, I think I’ll be fine for now,” Finn says. The guard trots off, probably to contact the supervisor, and Finn returns to looking at the bag. Why would the Pink Diamond leave a bag that definitely links him to the Silver Fox? To give his information more weight? He takes a few pictures of the bag, then gives Sobol a quick run-down of what else needs to be handled at the scene, then he heads to the office to meet Beck.

Beck is already there, legs propped on Finn’s desk and an impatient look on her face, when Finn arrives. “Are you sad?” Beck asks. 

“Well, I’d rather catch him and buy him a drink than wait three years and have him shake my hand, but if he’s helping us with your case, nah, I can’t be sad,” Finn says. 

“I wonder what’s making her retire,” Beck says, swinging her feet onto the floor. “You should send her a ‘Happy Retirement’ card in the next envelope drop. We’d linked two of those aliases to the Silver Fox, but he hasn’t used them in years. The rest are new.” 

“I’ll buy him a ‘World’s Nicest Art Thief’ mug, if it’ll help,” Finn says. “Or ‘World’s Most Helpful Art Thief’.”

“Let’s ask ASAC again about Interpol, at least. I want the ‘new information’ that she still has, because you and I know the Silver Fox won’t stop until he’s caught or owns every Picasso, whether it actually exists or not,” Beck says. 

“No matter how many bodies he has to leave in his wake to get them,” Finn says. 

“Let’s print out this list and start cross-referencing and searching,” Beck says. “I’ll take the ‘Gabe Fortier’ name, in case that’s actually at least partially real. Got a favorite alias of those you want to tackle?” 

“I’ll go with ‘Harold Baxter’ and ‘Gordon McAllister’,” Finn says. “I’ll print out the pictures I took, too.”

“ ‘Harold’ is one of the ones that we suspected was his, so I’ll send that file over,” Beck says, going to her computer and typing. “Should show up in a few. I’ll go ahead and order Chinese for delivery at 12:30. Good thing the restaurant started closing at two am, not one.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. He sets his stuff down on his desk, sighing when he realizes he’s missed several texts from Kurt.

_Looks like I’ll be wrapping up in 45 if you’re still up_

_Don’t tell me you fell asleep the Cubs aren’t that bad are they?_

_I’m home now but still up for an hour or two if you get these_

The last text only came about 45 minutes earlier, so Finn texts back _Sorry! Got called in to work._

_Tomorrow night should finish things up on my end. Late dinner?_ Kurt sends back just a moment later. 

_Sounds good. Hopefully nobody will feel the need to steal shoes again tomorrow night_ , Finn texts, then adds, _Miss you._

_I miss you too. We’ll eat takeout._

_Good. Takeout microwaves well when we forget about it and it gets cold._

_Suggestion noted. Don’t stay up too late tonight._

_You either. I’ll give you a call in the morning OK?_

_I’ll look forward to it._

“Stop looking mopey at your phone, Hudson,” Beck says. “You’ll see him tomorrow.” 

“Now that the Pink Diamond’s retired, maybe that means less overtime,” Finn says.

“Greener, legal pastures. She must’ve become a stockbroker,” Beck says with a shrug. 

Finn laughs. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s the type to trade in the life for something boring like stockbroking. Maybe he’s gotten himself a nice desk job and he’s planning on settling down, getting a cocker spaniel.” 

“Or maybe she’s having a baby!” Beck says. “Send a ‘Future FBI Agent’ bib with the card.” 

“That’s definitely not going to happen, Natty.”

“Too bad for the Pink Diamond’s baby,” Beck says as she shakes her head. “You really should ask about her plans.” 

“I’ll ask, but I’m not going to count on an answer to anything but Silver Fox–related questions. I’ll put it in the letter, though.”

“If I come up with any specific questions, I’ll let you know,” Beck says, pulling two printouts of the list of aliases from the printer and setting one on Finn’s desk before sitting down at her own desk. “Chinese’ll be here at 12:35.” 

“You’re a goddess, Natty,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, yeah, worship me by finding something awesome.” 

“Yes, your highness.” 

Finn spends the next couple of hours combing through documents potentially associated with ‘Harold Baxter’ and ‘Gordon McAllister’. He spends a lot of time on international travel documentation, customs records, and hotel and rental car records from cities where the Silver Fox had known or suspected jobs. He eats his Chinese food with one hand and scrolls through document after document with the other. At around 2:30, he hits the jackpot.

“Oh Naaaaatttty,” Finn sing-songs in Beck’s direction. “Guess what IIIIIII found?”

“Compromising photos of the Silver Fox?” Beck asks. 

“I found more proof of the Silver Fox/Pink Diamond connection,” Finn says. “Sending you a file right now.”

Beck looks at the file for several seconds before looking over at Finn. “You think this ‘Blair’ is your Pink Diamond?” 

“Yeah, and I think the ‘Bryce’ with the ‘McAllister’ alias is, as well.”

“But ‘Bryce’ left Paris alone, the last time their names are linked. Or, well, the last time Bryce traveled anywhere, according to this file.” 

“And where was it Bryce traveled?” Finn prompts. “In the middle of the night, not on the ticket already purchased for him?”

“Partnership gone bad?” Beck says. “Partnership gone… hang on.” She pulls up something else on her computer, reading it for close to a minute before she looks at Finn again. “There was a murder reported just a block from the Picasso Museum the same night that Bryce left Paris abruptly. Interpol connected it to the theft in retrospect, but the estimated time of death window overlaps with when Bryce’s flight left.” 

“Split because of the murder, or did Silver Fox snap and kill someone because his partner left, do you think?”

“You know the Pink Diamond better than I do. That is the first recorded murder that happened within a twelve-hour window of one of the Silver Fox’s jobs, rather than possibly affiliated murders the day before or a few days after,” Beck says. 

“He wouldn’t have stayed if he were being involved in the murders. The Pink Diamond’s timing has always indicated he goes out of his way to avoid interacting with anyone, and suddenly there’s a murder within a couple hours of a job he and his partner are on? It spooked him and he ran,” Finn says. “He ran _home_ , Natty. Home to New York, where he disappears.”

“The Silver Fox stays active after that, both stateside and in Europe, but the first documented Pink Diamond case isn’t for what? Over a year?” Beck asks. 

“Yeah, Fashion Week the following year, and he didn’t touch any art, just couture,” Finn says. “Low security, so no need for fancy security work, but even then, it was sloppier than the Fox’s scenes have ever been.”

“We found their split, and if it were because of the murder,” Beck says thoughtfully, “it makes sense that the Pink Diamond would have wanted to keep tabs on the Silver Fox for a year or two after parting ways. That explains the list of works stopping when it does.” 

“I know there were a few thefts involving couture or jewelry at one point in the Fox’s career, but what was the first?” Finn asks. 

“Hmm.” Beck scans her screen and then lets out a whistle. “There’s jewelry going back for decades, but the first couture is sitting in evidence right now.” 

“And now we have a timeline,” Finn says.

Beck nods. “Plus the Pink Diamond’s motive for helping us.”

“Hudson, grab yourself a fresh cup of coffee and meet me in my office,” Burke says as he walks in the next morning.

“Yes, sir,” Finn says. He pours himself another cup of coffee and heads up to Burke’s office, closing the door when Burke waves in its general direction. 

“Bring me up to speed on the Pink Diamond,” Burke says. 

“Sir, Agent Beck should probably be here as well. These two cases are so—”

“I’ll chat with Beck later,” Burke says. “What did the Pink Diamond take last night?” 

Finn fights a smile. “A pair of shoes and handbag, the total value of which is under $500.”

“Is your Pink Diamond nuts?” 

“That’s entirely possible, sir,” Finn says. “He also left a different bag at the scene, one that’s easily worth ten times the value of the bag he took.”

“What?” Burke looks confused, like he’s the one who needs Finn’s cup of coffee. “What on earth?” 

“That’s why I suggested that Agent Beck sit in on this. The bag was actually from one of her cases.”

Burke sighs. “One of the Silver Fox jobs?” 

“It is, actually!” Finn says, letting the smile show now. “It’s one of the pieces of evidence that has come to light to support our theory of a link between the Fox and the Pink Diamond.”

“I’m not leaving you and Agent Beck overnight again. The two of you are like Neal. Start on the timeline for me while I page her up here.” 

“Thank you, sir!” Finn says.

“That wasn’t a compliment!” Burke says as he jabs at the intercom system. 

“Yes, sir,” Finn says. 

“You know what?” Burke says. “I think you and Agent Beck can write me a memo.” He releases the intercom button. “Was there anything not related to the timeline that you needed?” 

“Interpol. Pink Diamond is being more than cooperative, and I’d like to keep him off Interpol’s radar,” Finn says. “I think we need the information he has.”

Burke sighs. “It’s on the table. Talk to me again after you hear from him again. If he keeps stealing things, I can’t do anything for him. Now go write your memo.” 

“Yes, sir,” Finn says, standing up to walk out of the office. He stops in the door. “He says he’s done.”

“Excuse me?”

“The Pink Diamond, sir. He says he’s done. He says he’ll shake my hand in three years and a day.”

“They’re never done,” Burke says, his voice sounding strained. “Memo, in two hours.” 

“Yes, sir,” Finn says, leaving the office. 

“What was that about?” Beck says when he gets down the stairs. “My intercom kept beeping and buzzing.” 

“ASAC says never mind, he just wants a memo,” Finn says. 

“A memo? That’ll take longer than telling him would.” 

“Yeah, but I think he’s kind of done with us, or with me, anyway.”

“You, us, or the Pink Diamond and us?” Beck asks. “I bet he doesn’t believe that she’s really retiring, either.” 

“All of us, especially me, and no, he doesn’t. He says they don’t retire. Maybe he’s right,” Finn says. “I want to think that the Pink Diamond is doing the right thing here, and that he’s serious about retiring, but ASAC knows what he’s talking about. I mean, look at Caffrey, still pulling cons to the very end, right?”

“By all accounts, he pulled cons as easy as breathing. I don’t know, Hudson. If the Pink Diamond’d only sent you a handkerchief and a retirement message, I’d probably agree with ASAC. But one of the aliases on that list? It was used as recently as eighteen months ago, and I have a sketch of the Silver Fox to circulate. Maybe you need criminal gossip,” Beck says. 

“Maybe I need to listen to him about not getting too personally invested, though. I know there were times that Burke almost let Caffrey drag him down with him, and maybe I could’ve gotten caught up like that before, but there’s Kurt now,” Finn says.

“Didn’t you say his project wraps up tonight?” Beck asks, then continues when Finn nods. “So let’s get this memo written and make sure you’re out of here when he’s done, Hudson.” 

“Yes, ma’am, Agent Beck!”

_Kurt had turned thirty with aplomb, even if that was a self-evaluation. He had felt like he was still young, still a rising star with_ Vogue _, still maintaining a fun and profitable, if illegal, side profession. Thirty-one, however, is rocking his world in an unpleasant way, and he still has twenty-four hours before it’s official. He may be young, but he knows that he’s working in a young person’s field, and as a managing editor now, he’s less of a rising star and more of an established one._

 _The part of his life that feels emptiest, however, is the fact that he has no romantic relationship established, not even a casual one or one with future promise. He has friendships, rebuilt somewhat after his split with Gabe now years in the past, and he sees Finn at least six or seven times a year, fitting in meals, in between Kurt’s travel. He has professional colleagues that he respects and admires, too, as well as some he’d love to see working elsewhere. His unpleasant foray into self-evaluation on the day of his birthday leads him to the conclusion that a partner is, in fact, something he would very much like, even if he has to conceal his non-_ Vogue _work activities from him._

_Kurt’s quite used to hiding his thefts and the fencing of the items he steals from everyone, and if he were to have extended contact with any others in the same line of work, they’d probably think he’s a ridiculous risk-taker, maintaining contact with Finn. The only person Kurt’s ever cut completely and deliberately from his life, though, is Gabe, and he can’t regret that at all._

_He hears enough rumors and reads enough news stories to know that Gabe is still taking items, though it seems to be with an even greater focus on Picasso than when Kurt was with him. Kurt knows enough about abuse cycles and escalation to know that he made a very good decision and then was extraordinarily lucky in the months and possibly years following when he left Gabe. He still looks over his shoulder from time to time._

_For two weeks after his birthday, Kurt goes over in his head the things that he’d ideally want in a partner, and he’s not sure if he’s compiling a list to compare his acquaintances to or to use when going on dates. He feels like the list is mostly complete when he realizes that it’s less of a random list and more of a description in list form of Finn._

_Kurt spends four days telling himself that there is no way Finn would be interested, and then another eight days telling himself how horrible he would be, to even consider dating Finn, given the conflict between Kurt’s illegal activities and Finn’s career with the FBI. He realizes mid-June he doesn’t actually have any intention of_ using _Finn’s position at the FBI to steer attention away from himself. Even if that’s primarily because the FBI doesn’t even have Kurt Hummel on their radar as a potential name to associate with the Pink Diamond, his interest in Finn is purely personal, not professional._

_He knows that in all likelihood, Finn is as straight as he always gave the appearance of being, but in the back of Kurt’s mind, a voice reminds him that over the many years Kurt’s known Finn and the many opportunities that Finn’s had to assert otherwise, Finn has never actually said for himself that he was straight. That little bit of a question mark makes Kurt not rule it out._

_It’s a fine line to skate, but the more Kurt considers it, the more he realizes that, should things go well, it’s even possible that he wouldn’t feel the need to substitute heists for romantic and emotional fulfillment. Two days after Kurt returns from a trip to Europe for_ Vogue _, he decides at the last minute to attend an exhibit opening at MoMA. Sometimes in the past, Kurt’s bumped into Finn at similar events._

_Forty-five minutes into the party, Kurt recognizes Finn from behind, studying one of the works, and Kurt smiles. He watches Finn for nearly a minute, suddenly second-guessing himself. If—and Kurt knows it’s a big if—he and Finn develop a deeper relationship, then Finn can never know who the Pink Diamond is, and Kurt has to be very careful not to manipulate Finn, even unwittingly. Kurt thinks he can avoid that, though, and he steps towards Finn, putting his hand gently on Finn’s lower back before he speaks._

“In case you were wondering, I’m aware this is busy work,” Finn tells Beck, after shuffling a few more files around on his desk.

“And yet you aren’t trying to get out of it, so I’ll take that as a ‘thank you, Agent Beck, for helping me avoid checking my phone every forty-five seconds’,” Beck says. 

“It wasn’t that often,” Finn grumbles, though he does so while sliding his phone out and checking it again. 

“You’re right. It was closer to thirty seconds. I _also_ suggested to Jones that I thought ten in the morning was early enough for a nice catch-everyone-up conference, which makes me what?” 

“The best friend a guy could have?” Finn says. 

“We have a winner! If you finish that, we can move on to cleaning the coffee—”

Finn’s phone dings, and he looks down at it again. “Oh well, guess you’ll be cleaning that pot alone, Natty.”

“I’ll tell you good night now before you forget I exist, then,” Beck says. 

The text from Kurt says _All done! Meet at your place?_

“Yeah, goodnight Natty,” Finn says, typing _Heading that way now!_

_Can we skip the takeout part entirely?_

_We can skip any other part if you want, just want to see you!_

_Good. Getting on the train now_

“Gotta go, Natty. Love you, Natty!” Finn says, grabbing up his things and heading for the door. 

“Yeah, yeah, good night!” 

Finn doesn’t quite sprint home, but he definitely hurries, beating Kurt by long enough to get the lights on and do a quick pick up of the apartment, which is mostly piling his suit pieces into the dry-cleaning bag. Kurt’s knock is short and sharp, probably echoing in the hallway. Finn opens the door, smiling as he pulls Kurt through the doorway and into a hard kiss. 

Kurt throws his arms around Finn, the thump at the same time indicating Kurt’s dropped his bag, and he returns the kiss with equal fervor. “I missed you!” 

“Me, too! Let’s not have projects and Pink Diamonds at the same time again, okay?” Finn says. “I don’t care who steals what. If I haven’t seen you in 48 hours, crime can wait.”

“That’s the last project I’ll have like this, at least,” Kurt says before kissing Finn again. “I love you.” 

“Yeah. I love you,” Finn says. He starts pulling up Kurt’s v-neck shirt, lifting it over his head and then discarding it without caring where it lands. He runs his hands over Kurt’s chest and smiles. 

“So much,” Kurt says, untucking Finn’s shirt. “Maybe the next time I have to travel for _Vogue_ , I should bring you with me.” 

“Maybe I’ll hire you to consult on some of our art or couture cases,” Finn says, starting to undo Kurt’s very tight pants and shove them down. “That way the Pink Diamond wouldn’t be taking away my time with you.”

“We should be mad at the Pink Diamond?” Kurt asks. “That’s where you were last night?” 

“Yeah, he pulled a job at FIT, left me a note and a Birkin bag. I want to trust him, you know, but ASAC Burke has me thinking that’s not a good idea. I think he’s genuinely trying to help us catch somebody way worse than the Pink Diamond ever was, but…” Finn hooks his fingertips in Kurt’s underwear, pulling them down. 

“He sounds like a bad criminal,” Kurt says, wiggling his legs. “Leaving the very nice, valuable bag _for_ the FBI.” 

“Doesn’t exactly balance out what he _has_ taken, though,” Finn says. He runs his hand up the inside of Kurt’s bare thigh. 

“Mmmhmm,” Kurt says, leaning into Finn’s touch. “Did you say a note? Maybe I _should_ be jealous.” 

“He says he’s retiring. I want to believe him, but Burke thinks I’m being naïve. Maybe I am. I’d love to make that arrest, but I also want the guy to go straight, you know? He’s really helping us a lot.”

“I think I am, a little. You’d _love_ to make that arrest?” 

“I’ve been after him since I started here. It would be a huge win,” Finn says. “It’s not like I want to catch him like, I don’t know. It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt teases, unbuttoning Finn’s shirt. “What if it were six months ago?” 

Finn shrugs. “It’s not like that,” he repeats. “I’ve never met the guy in person, and I’m not stupid enough to think I really know him, just because I’ve worked on his case. And I don’t do casual.”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t at all want to pretend a little?” Kurt pushes Finn’s shirt off his shoulders and runs his hands down Finn’s arms. “We did have that brief conversation about handcuffs before.” 

“You want to be my Pink Diamond?” Finn asks. “I guess you do know as much about couture as he does. Are we sure you’re _not_ him?”

“ _Your_ Pink Diamond, yes.” 

“Well, if he were you, he would be _my_ Pink Diamond,” Finn says. “Are you ready to make a confession? I could probably offer you a pretty good deal.”

“Does that deal involve handcuffs _and_ both of us naked?”

“I’d probably have to detain you. Handcuffs could be necessary,” Finn says. 

“Being detained sounds exciting, actually,” Kurt says, slowly unfastening Finn’s pants. “Are the handcuffs standard, or do I need to struggle?” 

“Usually it’s cuffs first, struggling after,” Finn says. “I can detain you for hours and hours without having to charge you with anything, you realize?”

“Maybe you should cuff me and use those hours to… interrogate me?” 

“I’m sure you have lots of valuable information for me,” Finn says. As Kurt starts to push Finn’s pants down, Finn quickly retrieves his cuffs from the back of his belt. “Turn around.”

Kurt turns, his breathing speeding up a little. “Yes, Agent.” 

Finn locks the cuffs around Kurt’s wrists, looser than he would for an actual arrest. “I’m taking you in for questioning,” he tells Kurt, pressing against Kurt’s back to guide him forward, towards the bedroom. 

“You don’t have any proof of anything,” Kurt says. “Not of anything except…”

“So, you haven’t been leaving notes for me all over the city?” Finn demands. “Seems like you really wanted my attention, but I’ve got bad news for you. I’m in a relationship.”

“Oh, I think I have your attention, Agent Hudson, don’t I?” 

“I think I have _your_ attention,” Finn says. “Do you have any weapons on you?”

“Only one,” Kurt says. 

“This is the part where I pat you down, but I’m sure you’re familiar with that part. You career criminal types always are,” Finn says. He starts running his hands down Kurt’s sides, down his legs, then back up the inside of Kurt’s thighs, stroking the soft skin at the very top of his inner thighs. After a moment or so of this, Finn reaches around Kurt and strokes down Kurt’s chest, all the way down to his cock, loosely circling it with one hand.

“I think I like this part,” Kurt says, thrusting up a little into Finn’s hand. “You know, you’re actually the first law enforcement officer to pat me down?” 

“Then you must be very good. Even better than I thought,” Finn says. He presses his body against Kurt’s back, so Kurt can feel Finn’s erection against his ass. “I should probably get you more comfortable for questioning, though.”

“I was hoping that the questioning would take a long time,” Kurt says. “Then I’d really feel even more like the luckiest criminal.” 

Finn laughs as he walks Kurt towards the bed, unlocking the cuff on one wrist before nudging Kurt up onto the bed. “Then get comfortable,” he says. 

“On my back or on my stomach?” 

“Get on your hands and knees, hands towards the headboard,” Finn says. “We’ll see if you get to lie down later or not.”

Kurt flips onto his hands and knees in the direction Finn had said, nodding once. “Okay, Agent Hudson.” 

Finn reaches around Kurt and slips the cuffs between two slats of his headboard, hooking the loose cuff around Kurt’s free wrist again. “I need you to state your full name for the record,” Finn says, resting his hand on Kurt’s lower back.

“Kurt Xavier Hummel.” 

“And are you the notorious art thief who has been keeping me late at the office and making me miss time with my boyfriend, Mr. Hummel?” Finn asks. 

“I’m afraid that I am,” Kurt says. 

“Did you realize, exactly, what you’re making me miss?” Finn asks. “Did you know you were preventing me from having amazing sex with the sexiest man I’ve ever met? Did you, Mr. Hummel?”

“I’m hurt, Agent Hudson. _I_ am not the sexiest man? At least tell me I’m the sexiest criminal.” 

“Hmm,” Finn says. He strokes Kurt’s back a few times, running his fingertips over the curves of Kurt’s perfect ass. “You _are_ sexy. Almost as sexy as my boyfriend, but you’re just a thief, and he’s a respected fashion writer and editor, and he loves me. You’re just another case to me, no matter how fun the chase might have been.”

“Just another case?” Kurt shakes his head. “I don’t believe that. If I were, you would have immediately let someone know I was caught at the end of your chase.” 

“I have questions first. Important questions. I don’t want to wade through all that paperwork.”

“I think you wanted the Pink Diamond to yourself first. You had so much fun chasing me, didn’t you, Agent Hudson? You didn’t want the fun to end.” 

“Maybe that used to be true, but it’s different now,” Finn says. “You don’t understand what I have now. You don’t understand what it’s like to love somebody, not somebody like _him_.” He slips his hand between Kurt’s legs, starting to stroke his cock. “You don’t know what it’s like to love somebody like that, to want to be with him every minute of every day, thinking about him when you’re supposed to be thinking about work. No, you lost me the minute I realized he wanted me and I wanted him.”

“Oh, I have someone distracting me, too,” Kurt says, and the bed creaks a little as Kurt moves his arms. “I have someone waiting for me to finish each job, even though they don’t know they are. Still, you kept chasing me.” 

“It’s my job, and I’m damn good at my job.” Finn’s hand wraps more firmly around Kurt’s cock, stroking him faster. “The sooner I catch you, the sooner I go home to the man I love.”

“Weren’t you at all curious about why I’m retiring?” 

“Maybe you’re getting old. Maybe it’s getting boring.”

“Do I look old to you?” Kurt asks, sounding moderately insulted. “Maybe I found something more important. Someone more important.” 

“I hope he’s a better choice than your last partner,” Finn says. “That one didn’t end well, did it? I don’t think it ended well for you at all.”

Kurt’s entire body tenses for about five seconds before relaxing, and his voice is softer. “They are.” 

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Finn says, running his free hand over Kurt’s back and sides. “You’re safe here with me. I would never hurt you or let anyone else hurt you. You’re here now.”

“He was awful, at the end,” Kurt says, his voice stronger again. “He was cruel and cutting, and he called me his ‘pretty little boy’, and I still didn’t leave. He had so much to teach me, or that’s what I thought.” 

“You were in too deep,” Finn says, leaning forward to start peppering kisses down Kurt’s back, hand still moving on his cock, even though his heart hurts a little, wondering how much of this is Kurt roleplaying and how much is Kurt talking about his time with his former partner. “You needed me. You were looking for someone who treated you like a man. Who wanted you. Someone who would chase you.”

“I didn’t want to throw away everything he taught me, everything I’d taught myself, but now I have someone better. Even better than the chase,” Kurt says. “Better than anything. I should have left him sooner.” 

“I wish you had. I wish I had caught you sooner. I’d have taken care of you. I would’ve stopped him, kept him away from you.” Finn kisses Kurt’s tailbone, his tongue flickering just barely down to Kurt’s ass. “I didn’t realize I could love somebody so much, but it was there all along, just waiting for me to catch up.”

“I should have left sooner,” Kurt repeats. “It shouldn’t have taken increasingly strange remarks and a man dying. I should have left before that.” 

“Shit,” Finn whispers to himself. His lips are against Kurt’s ass, and he moves his tongue lower, tonguing at Kurt’s asshole, feeling Kurt shift his weight towards him as the bed creaks again. Finn’s tongue darts in and out, shallowly penetrating Kurt as he moves his hands to Kurt’s hips. 

“I don’t need what he taught me anymore,” Kurt says between soft whimpers and moans. “I have better. Best.” 

Finn tongues Kurt deeper, fucking Kurt’s ass with his tongue. He grips Kurt’s hips tightly, half-hearing what Kurt’s saying, focused more on his whimpers and gasps than his words. 

“I love you. I love you, so much,” Kurt says, his ass moving slightly in Finn’s hands. Finn pushes his tongue in deeper a few times before pulling back a little.

“I love you,” Finn says. “Can I fuck you?”

“Please, yes.”

Finn pulls away, reaching for his nightstand and the bottle of lube he keeps there now. He sits back with the bottle, returning his tongue to Kurt’s ass while putting lube on his own fingers and curling them around his cock, stroking just enough to make sure he’s good and slick for Kurt. After another deep stroke of his tongue, Finn pulls away again, sitting up on his knees.

“Do you want this?” he asks Kurt. “Do you want me inside you?”

“Yes, so much, yes,” Kurt says, turning his head to look over his shoulder for the first time since he climbed onto the bed. “Please.” 

Kurt’s eyes are bright, shining with the faintest hint of tears. He looks desperate for Finn, but also loving, adoring even, and Finn can’t keep up any play-acting or pretending. He wants Kurt, too, not some elusive criminal whose capture doesn’t mean anything compared to Finn’s love for the man in front of him.

“God, yes,” Finn says, positioning himself behind Kurt. The head of his cock nudges against Kurt’s ass, and Finn strokes one hand down Kurt’s back again before starting to slide inside him, so slowly.

“That, you, yes,” Kurt says, rocking his ass back towards Finn. “Oh my God, Finn.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says softly. “Doesn’t matter who I’m chasing. It’s just you. You’re the one I want. You’re the one I love. Kurt, my Kurt, love you.” He pushes deep into Kurt, feeling him so tight and hot, like something Finn could never, would never, want to leave.

“I love you, too. I love you. I love you _so much_.” 

“I know, I know you do, Kurt, Jesus, you’re so gorgeous, so perfect. You’re everything I needed, I don’t need anything or anyone but you. You have to know that,” Finn pleads.

“I’d do anything for you, Finn,” Kurt says softly. “Anything.”

Finn pounds into Kurt, one hand on his hip, the other reaching around for Kurt’s cock. “And I’d do anything for you. I love you that much. Goddamn, Kurt, I love you so much, you’re so hot, so smart, so strong.”

“You’re so good, so good for me, _we’re_ so good,” Kurt says, his words spilling out rapidly. “Finn, Finn, I want to feel you.”

“I’m here, Kurt, I’m here. I’m inside you and you’re all around me, and God, Kurt, I love you, I want to love you forever, I’ll always love you.” Finn is panting, thrusting into Kurt as he jerks him off, feeling giddy, drunk on Kurt’s body under his, the tight grip of Kurt’s slick, hot ass. “When you come, when you’re ready, when I feel you coming in my hand I’m going to fill you up, love you so so so much, my Kurt, my love.”

Kurt cries out, a higher-pitched whimper sliding into a loud moan as he comes in Finn’s hand, his body shaking under Finn’s and around Finn’s cock. Finn digs the fingers of his left hand into Kurt’s hip, the hot spurt of Kurt’s come against his other hand, and then Finn is coming, too, shouting Kurt’s name and God knows what else as he buries himself deep inside Kurt’s ass, coming in hard, hot pulses.

“I love you, I love you,” Finn gasps, riding out the waves of his orgasm. As he stills, he sees the cuffs digging into Kurt’s wrists. He snatches up the key, quickly uncuffing both of Kurt’s wrists, kissing them as he gathers Kurt into his arms. 

“Forever sounds good,” Kurt says, mumbling against Finn’s skin. 

“You know I mean it,” Finn says quietly. “I’ve never loved anyone but you like this.”

“I mean it, too. Anything.” 

“I know,” Finn says. “Good thing I don’t need you to do anything but love me.” He tucks Kurt against his chest, arms wrapping around him. “That was fun, but I don’t really want that from the Pink Diamond. You know that, right? I just want you.”

“I know. Maybe the Pink Diamond should be jealous of me,” Kurt says, his voice soft. “I love you.” 

“Yeah, he probably should,” Finn says. He tightens his arms around Kurt and closes his eyes. 

“Wake me up in a few hours?” 

“You sure? I don’t have to be in early.”

“Wake me up in a few hours _and_ in the morning,” Kurt says, sounding a little punchy. 

Finn laughs quietly. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Finn feels incredibly fulfilled in both his personal and professional lives, with Kurt halfway moved-in to Finn’s apartment and progress on Finn’s major case. A week after Finn and Beck’s big discovery of the connections between the Silver Fox and the Pink Diamond, they’ve managed to connect a partner/companion alias to two more of the Silver Fox’s aliases. More importantly, they’ve noted some patterns in the Silver Fox’s recent acquisitions that open up new leads, including a handful of fences, both domestic and international, who have handled stolen paintings for the Fox.

“Hudson, come over here,” Beck says just after lunch. “Look at this.” 

“Sure. What you got?” Finn asks, leaning on Beck’s desk. 

“This is the fourth fence that the Silver Fox seems to have used that turned up dead within six months of their contact with the Fox,” Beck says, pointing to her screen. “I think it’s possible he’s collecting money for the paintings and then taking them back, too.” 

“Makes sense. Kill the fence, and then steal it back from the buyer, who can’t exactly report the theft of an illegally-purchased painting,” Finn says. “Damn.”

“A specific damn, or just a general ‘wow, this guy is a bastard’ damn?”

“I’m just picturing a room somewhere, with the walls covered in Picassos and one of those velvet couch-things in the middle of it, the kind you swoon on,” Finn says. 

“And the Silver Fox lying on it, drinking expensive wine and waiting on someone to bring him a platter of cheeses?” Beck adds. 

“If it didn’t involve murder and theft, who wouldn’t want that life?” 

Beck shrugs. “Maybe that explains the Pink Diamond. I’m trying to contact a couple of known fences so we can ask them about both the Fox and the Pink Diamond.” 

“If you can set up a meeting, I’m going, too. We’ve got to settle that bet about the Pink Diamond, right?” Finn asks. “If a fence has met him, they can confirm he’s a him.”

“I’m sure they’d be happy to talk about _her_ ,” Beck says. “I’ve put a call in to Pia Bishopric, who continues to insist that she only deals with legally obtained works, and I asked Jones to help me get in touch with Alex Hunter, who has never claimed to deal in anything but illegally obtained works. I don’t know what it says that we’re more likely to get a meeting with the known criminal.” 

“Hunter’s had a long-standing relationship with the Bureau, though, or with certain members of it, at least,” Finn says, glancing up at the ASAC’s office.

“Yeah, I’m hopeful,” Beck says. “But until Jones gets back to me, I guess it’s back to mortgage fraud for both of us this afternoon.” Another ninety minutes passes before Beck’s phone rings, and she listens for a few moments before saying “Thank you” and hanging up. “Let’s go, Hudson.”

“Bishopric or Hunter?” Finn asks, grabbing his suit jacket. 

“Hunter, and in typical grandiose criminal fashion, she wants to meet in the middle of Rockefeller Plaza,” Beck says as she stands. 

“Public, lots of escape routes; it’s actually a smart call,” Finn says. 

“She’s probably the smartest criminal this division has dealt with over the years,” Beck admits. “She told Jones she was in the neighborhood.” 

“Why do I find that so disturbing?”

“Because it’s like she was waiting for us to call?” 

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” Finn says.

They take the train up to Rockefeller, and both scan the crowd for Hunter. Beck spots her first, so Finn follows her to the far side of the Plaza, to a woman he recognizes from photographs in her file. 

“Agent Beck, it’s been several years,” the woman says with an insincere smile. “And is this your CI?”

“Why would you think I’m her CI?” Finn asks. 

“You’re too well-dressed to be a Fed,” Hunter says. “Also, there’s apparently a standard for attractiveness with CIs. I assume you’ve seen pictures of Caffrey.” 

“He’s not a CI,” Beck says. 

“My boyfriend bought me this suit,” Finn says, feeling strangely offended on Kurt’s behalf. 

“Is your boyfriend a CI?” Hunter asks. “Even Burke didn’t let Neal pick out his suits.” 

“No, he’s not a CI!” Finn says. 

“Calm down, Hudson, she’s trying to get a rise out of you,” Beck says. “That’s _one_ of her MOs. Hunter, we need information about the Silver Fox and the Pink Diamond, as I’m sure Jones told you.” 

“I don’t discuss my clients, but if I did, there’s nothing I could tell you about the Silver Fox,” Hunter says. “He’s too big of a risk to work with. Too many people around him turn up hurt or dead.” 

“But you _have_ fenced for the Pink Diamond?” Finn asks. Hunter smiles smugly, not immediately responding. “Let me rephrase that. We know you’ve fenced for the Pink Diamond. We’re interested in whether anything you’ve fenced for him has been misattributed to the Silver Fox.”

“My success depends on my discretion for my current clientele.” 

“ _Current_ clientele?” Beck asks immediately. 

“I hate to spread gossip,” Hunter says, “but surely you’ve heard the rumors about the Pink Diamond’s impending retirement?” 

“Are you telling us this to confirm it, or are you telling us this to suggest it’s not actually happening?” Finn asks. 

“In a file somewhere, I’m certain there’s a report of a late nineteenth-century pocket watch that never surfaced post-theft,” Hunter says carefully. “I’m equally certain its new owner is benefitting from what would be called a liquidation if it were Raymour & Flanigan.” 

“If the Pink Diamond’s getting out of the game, and you’ve never worked with the Silver Fox, why did you agree to this meeting?” Beck asks, crossing her arms. 

“It sounded like fun.” 

“Has the Versace dress taken on July 10th been ‘liquidated’?” Finn asks. 

“I told you, I don’t discuss my current clientele. They depend upon my discretion,” Hunter says. 

Before Finn reply, his phone rings. “Excuse me a second,” he says to Beck and Hunter, answering the call. “Hey.”

“Are you going to be leaving the office on time this afternoon?” Kurt asks. 

“I’m actually not in the office right now. I’m doing some fieldwork at the moment,” Finn says. “I’ll tell you about it over dinner?”

“Text me where to meet you. I should be wrapping up here shortly.” 

“Yeah, I will. Love you,” Finn says. 

“I love you, too,” Kurt says, then ends the call. 

When Finn turns back to Hunter and Beck, Beck looks amused, and Hunter has one eyebrow raised and an odd smile on her face. “Is that your well-dressed boyfriend?” Hunter asks. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah,” Finn says. “So, are we done here, Agent Beck?”

“Oh how sweet,” Hunter says slowly, her smile getting wider. 

“I think we are,” Beck says. “Don’t be a stranger, Hunter.” 

“Oh, I won’t be,” Hunter says. “Good luck, Agent Beck and— what did you say your name was?” 

“Hudson,” Finn says. 

“Good luck to you, too, Agent Hudson,” Hunter says, then turns and slips into the crowd. 

“That was weird,” Beck says, staring in the direction Hunter went. 

“So the Pink Diamond really is getting out of the business, if we can trust the word of this particular fence,” Finn says. “Also confirms that those four dead fences probably were killed by the Fox.”

“There’s no evidence of anything other than perhaps an occasional working relationship between the Pink Diamond and Hunter,” Beck points out. “She has nothing to gain by backing up the Pink Diamond’s retirement story. If anything, it’s probably a disappointment to her. No new items from that source.” 

“We should put a tail on her, see if she’s meeting with the Pink Diamond again. If he’s liquidating his collection, and they’ve worked together in the past, he’ll probably go through her,” Finn says. 

“Cottermeyer’s been looking like he wants some extra hours, don’t you think?” Beck says. “We’ll get him on it. She’s never even met him, so he might not get made for a full forty-eight hours or so.” 

Finn splits off from Beck, texting Kurt a location for dinner, and hurries to the restaurant to grab a table for them before Kurt gets there. Kurt smiles widely when he spots Finn, leaning over to kiss him before sitting down. 

“Hi there,” Kurt says. 

“Hey! You look like you’re in a good mood today,” Finn says. “Nice to have the project out of the way?”

“It is. I didn’t even realize how much strain I was feeling until it lifted, and now I’m delegating some other burdens, too,” Kurt says. 

“Good. I’m glad you’re getting a little bit of a break,” Finn says. 

“And you got a break from the desk this afternoon?” 

“I did! Natty and I were out meeting with a fence who might have some leads for us,” Finn says. “We didn’t get as much as we hoped on one of the cases, but she did have some useful information for us on the other.”

“Back on the Silver Fox again?” Kurt asks. “I’m assuming there’s no fence involved with the mortgage fraud cases.” 

“Yeah, she didn’t have anything to speak of on the Fox, sadly, but Beck and I could have guessed that, based on the fact she’s still alive.”

“A smart one, then?” 

“Oh yeah, very smart. One of the best.” Finn laughs a little and adds, “She thought I was a CI, because I was too well-dressed to be a Fed!”

“You _are_ too well-dressed to be a Fed,” Kurt agrees. “But I wouldn’t have assumed CI.” 

“Well, she and Caffrey, ASAC’s old CI, had a close relationship.”

“I’m sure she meant it as a compliment, then,” Kurt says with a smile. “Do you think you could pull off a bank heist?” 

“I think it’s better for both of us if I don’t,” Finn says. 

“Your height probably would be a liability. And you’d have to wear clothes that fit you more poorly. Alter your stance, too. Yes, probably best that you don’t.” 

“Have _you_ been planning a bank heist?” Finn asks. “That’s a lot of thought you’ve put into this!”

“I have never planned a bank heist,” Kurt says with a laugh. “And I actually first considered your height liability back in high school.” 

“Good to know your criminal mind started that far back,” Finn says. 

After dinner, they go back to Finn’s place, where even more of Kurt’s things have started to accumulate on various surfaces. Either Finn’s going to have to clear out a drawer and half his closet, or they might need to consider a better long-term plan for merging their stuff. That discussion can wait until another day, though, and they make much better use of their evening than discussing where to hang Kurt’s spring suits.

The next morning, when Finn gets into the office, Beck looks wild-eyed and like she might be on her third or fourth cup of coffee, despite it only being a little after eight am. “Hudson!” she says. “Two things!” 

“Is one of them speed? Because you look like one of them involves you taking speed,” Finn says.

“Remember the rumor Devlin mentioned a week ago during briefing, about some new piece hitting the art market, that the owner was spending a lot of money to have it authenticated quickly and quietly?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “We were all making guesses about who the artist could be.”

“Interpol sent us a heads up. They can’t confirm the rumors, but there’s a strong indication that it’s a Picasso,” Beck says. 

“Holy shit! No wonder you’re so cranked!”

“You know he’ll go after it,” Beck says. “Wherever it’s displayed, he’ll be there, and until the official announcement, there’s really nothing we can do.” 

“Yeah. Shit. Okay,” Finn says. “So what’s the other thing?”

“The Met got a special delivery early this morning. They’re sending over the note that was enclosed, but the bulk of the package was a certain pair of opera gloves,” Beck says. “They got a much shorter note, too. It just says ‘With apologies’.” 

“I know I’m repeating myself here, but holy shit!” Finn says. “Where’s the note?”

“The courier should be here any minute with it,” Beck says, gesturing towards the elevators. “It’s long this time.” 

Finn and Beck both stare at the elevators, and they both jump to their feet when the elevator opens and the courier comes out, walking into the office. Finn signs for the envelope, dons a pair of gloves, and pulls the letter from the envelope.

“Wow,” Finn says, looking at the letter. “Ego much?”

Along with detailed explanation of the Silver Fox’s experience with various security systems and how he overrides them, the Pink Diamond also included a personal note to Finn, stating ‘I hope my retirement hasn’t left your life empty and devoid of meaning’ along with an acknowledgment that the specifics of the Silver Fox’s expertise are out of date. 

“The Pink Diamond likes having a pen pal?” Beck asks. 

“Maybe so. Maybe he just likes knowing he’s gotten credit for his work,” Finn says. 

“It’s both egotistical and sweet,” Beck says. “Don’t you think?” 

“Doesn’t make me want to catch him any less.”

“Only one thing that makes you want to catch him any less?”

“Nah, that just makes me want to catch him faster,” Finn says. 

“All that paperwork, is what I was thinking of,” Beck explains. “It might mean you have to work late.” 

“But once it’s done, it’s done,” Finn says, “and maybe I’ll get a nice, long stint of corporate fraud, maybe some software theft.”

“You really are settling down. Maybe _you’re_ the one who’s getting a cocker spaniel,” Beck says. “I’ll still send the Pink Diamond a bib.” 

“No way am I getting a cocker spaniel. Do I really seem like a cocker spaniel guy?” Finn asks. 

“German shepherd?” 

“Does Kurt seem like a German shepherd guy?”

“More like a Bengal cat,” Beck admits. “You should get him a kitten for Christmas.” 

“Or one of those little foxes. The ones with the big ears. That would be so cute!” Finn says. 

Beck laughs and shakes her head. “Settling. Down.” 

Finn shrugs. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“I didn’t say there was. It suits you. And you eat fewer of those egg salad sandwiches, so it’s a win for me, too.”

“I love my egg salad sandwiches,” Finn says. 

“They smell funny. It could be the bread, I guess.”

“It’s best on the rye, though!”

“If I ever have to do a stakeout with you _and_ ASAC, I’m bringing a nose plug or something.”

_Kurt doesn’t run away from Finn’s apartment, but he hurries as quickly as he can, hailing a cab almost frantically. He doesn’t really think that Finn will come after him, not after that dismissal, and most of him doesn’t want Finn to, but a tiny part of him is disappointed that no one leaves Finn’s building before Kurt’s cab pulls away, and his phone doesn’t ring before he gets home. He clearly misread things, but as he mentally reviews the evening, he’s not sure what he misread. Finn had seemed willing to figuratively wink at Kurt’s lie about being in the neighborhood, and it had been Finn himself who had first brought up making other plans. Finally, when Kurt had moved closer, Finn had literally opened up, putting his arm out of the way, and when Kurt had kissed Finn, Finn had kissed back._

_The sudden shift from that realization to being pushed away is the hardest thing for Kurt to think about, and he spends the next week in what even he recognizes is a fit of pique, planning a pair of jobs for the sole purpose of tweaking Finn’s nose. Kurt isn’t sure how he would have balanced being with Finn and being the Pink Diamond, but Finn had made sure he didn’t have a chance to even attempt it._

_The end result of two jobs and a hand-embroidered handkerchief ends up being Finn coming to Kurt, which is not something Kurt had remotely entertained as a possibility. He wakes up happy, even though he realizes almost immediately that he’s alone. Kurt finds the note from Finn as soon as he opens his eyes, and he sits up in bed reading and re-reading it with a smile on his face. There’s no guarantees, not the first day after something new begins, but he knows now that Finn does want him, and that he doesn’t want it to be one night only._

_Of course, the days that follow make it more clear to Kurt that he has to come to a decision about his illegal activities. It’s amusing at first when Finn talks about the Pink Diamond, but only in an immediate sense, and there’s no way he wants to have the deception continue long-term. By the time a week or so passes, Kurt realizes that the unusual, uncomfortable feeling that’s nagging at him is guilt. Some lies of omission are going to be necessary, in order to avoid putting Finn in a very uncomfortable position, but Kurt realizes that he doesn’t_ want _to keep lying, again and again, to Finn._

_The truth that he comes to is that he needs to stop. He wants to stop, even, if the choice is between Finn and couture crime. The temptation to pull one final job and, in the process, give more information about Gabe, is too strong, and he carefully plans his target and what he plans to take, all the while reaching out to a few contacts to begin the process of selling the trinkets he's kept for himself over the years._

_There are things he'll never be able to tell Finn as himself, but between the things he can say and what the Pink Diamond can write, there's very little that Kurt will have completely hidden. Finn will never have the professional satisfaction of catching the Pink Diamond, but Kurt thinks that, were their roles reversed, he'd rather have personal fulfillment – and he suspects that's even more true for Finn._

When Finn unlocks his apartment door and steps inside, he immediately knows Kurt is already there. His satchel is by the door, along with the shoes Finn knows Kurt was wearing when they met for lunch. The apartment is quiet, though, with no TV or music playing.

“Kurt?” Finn calls out softly. “Are you home?”

“You’re here,” Kurt says, coming out of the bedroom and sounding relieved. 

“Hey,” Finn says, reaching for Kurt and pulling him close. Kurt trembles in his arms, and his skin looks paler than usual. “Are you sick?”

“No. I don’t know,” Kurt says, sliding his arms around Finn’s waist. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, but now I’m really worried. Did something happen? Are you okay?” 

“I’m okay.” Kurt takes a couple of deep breaths. “I… I was almost back at work after lunch, and I thought I saw someone. Or, well, I _did_ see someone, but I thought they were _him_.” 

Finn breathes in sharply, wrapping both arms tightly around Kurt. “Oh, Kurt, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he says, pitching his voice low. “But you’re sure you’re okay? He didn’t try to talk to you, did he?”

Kurt shakes his head, leaning heavily against Finn. “I’m sorry. I’m probably overreacting.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Finn insists, pressing his lips to the top of Kurt’s head. “Of course you were upset, if you thought you saw him. If that ever happens again, will you call me, please? You can come in to the office, or I’ll come to you, but please call me if you think you see him, okay? I love you. I want you to know you’re safe.”

“Okay.” Kurt nods. “Okay. I will. Can… I want to tell you something. Do you want to eat first?” 

“We can talk now. Do you want to sit on the sofa or lie down on the bed?”

“Bed,” Kurt says firmly. 

“Okay. I’ll get the suit off first, then, if that’s okay with you?” Finn asks. 

Kurt nods. “I’ll watch you do that.” 

“Okay,” Finn smiles, walking them both into the bedroom and sitting Kurt down on the foot of the bed before starting to take off his suit. Once his tie is off and his jacket and pants are discarded to the dry-cleaning pile, and he’s down to just his shirt and boxers, Finn looks up at Kurt again. “Is this undressed enough?”

“Shirt off,” Kurt says, taking off his own shirt. Finn nods and unbuttons his shirt, tossing it to the side, on top of his suit. He also pulls off his socks, then he sits down on the foot of the bed next to Kurt.

“Let’s lie down,” Finn says, gently putting his arm around Kurt and pulling him back towards the pillows. 

Kurt nods and settles against Finn. “Seeing him—thinking I saw him, I mean—I didn’t want you to think… I _was_ looking for you. That night at MoMA.” 

“What didn’t you want me to think?” Finn asks. 

“I don’t want you to think I was trying to trick you or anything. But I was looking for you.” 

“Why would I think you were trying to trick me?” Finn says, wrapping his arms around Kurt. “And I’m glad you were looking for me. Makes me feel good.”

“I turned thirty-one and realized I was… lonely, I guess,” Kurt says. “And after a few weeks, I had a mental list of what I wanted. Then I realized it was a good description of you. So I thought… what harm could there be in seeing?” 

“No harm, other than me acting like a jackass at first,” Finn says. 

“I came to find you. I’m glad I did,” Kurt says softly. “For so many reasons.” 

“Me, too,” Finn says. “And I love you.”

Kurt lifts his head up and smiles at Finn before kissing him slowly and deeply. “I love you, too. You make me happy.” 

“I’m sorry you got so shaken up today,” Finn says. “Anything I can do to help more?”

“Just stay with me,” Kurt says, mumbling something else against Finn’s chest. “All night.” 

“Of course, of course I will,” Finn says, holding Kurt tightly. Kurt puts his head back down on Finn’s chest, his eyes closed.

“Thank you.”

Finn is starting to feel like he’s the only person in his life who isn’t about to come fully unhinged. Since showing up at Finn’s apartment on Monday after thinking he’d seen his ex, Kurt has been noticeably on edge, jumping at sudden movements or unexpected noises. Beck has been equally on edge, but more manic than paranoid, obsessively going over every minute detail, calling and emailing anyone she can think of to get a confirmation that this big painting discovery is, in fact, a Picasso. Finn is looking forward to the weekend more than usual, because he’ll be away from Agent Caffeine and hopefully able to spend the time helping Kurt feel comfortable and safe again.

He’s watching the clock tick down and holding his breath that something else serious doesn’t hit before end of business. Hopefully the Pink Diamond was sincere in his retirement announcement and the Silver Fox has some Picassos over in Spain or France to keep him busy. 

Beck is at her computer around two when she suddenly makes a choking noise, pointing at the screen and practically hyperventilating. “Hudson!” 

“Are you finally having that heart attack?” Finn asks. “I told you five cups of coffee was enough.”

“Here,” she gasps. “They’re displaying it _here_. In two weeks!” 

“What are they displaying? And that’s Fashion Week, who puts on a display in the city during _Fashion Week_?” Finn asks.

“Gaultier does. The _Picasso_ , Hudson, the one the Silver Fox has been rumored to have been looking for, they’re displaying it at the show.” 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Finn says, standing up and walking over to Beck’s desk. “They’re unveiling a Picasso at Fashion Week?”

“They’re calling it a detail study of _Guernica_ , and somehow tying it in with the collection.” 

“Isn’t _Guernica_ the one about the Nazis that has people and a cow dying a horrible death?”

“A bull, but close enough,” Beck says. “This one’s been hidden inside a wall for eighty years, and luckily for the painting, they were tearing down the house slowly. They’re calling it _Study of Horse and Bull_.” 

“And we’re sure it’s not a Silver Fox copy?” Finn asks. “Who certified it? How many different people?”

“The press release says five people on three continents. I recognize the names. I don’t think the Silver Fox could get to all of them. If it were just a couple of them… yeah, maybe,” Beck admits. “But not all of them. This is huge. I’m already getting messages from people I know from Penn. For our purposes, though… guess what security system they’re using?” 

“Promenade Mark 17?” Finn guesses. 

“Bingo.” Beck shakes her head. “How did he know so much earlier than everyone else? One of the authenticators must have given him a heads up.” 

“Shit. Are we sure he’ll try to take it here, not in transit?”

“He’s always taken things from a stationary location in the past, even when it would have been easier to take in transit. Sometimes I’ve wondered if the Silver Fox can drive,” Beck admits. “Also, I have to wonder if it’s not already in the city.” 

“Okay, what do you need me to do?” Finn asks. 

“Nothing yet. Everyone we need to talk to has probably left the city for the long weekend already,” Beck says with a sigh. “Go enjoy your weekend with Kurt. Take in a baseball game or something.” 

“Not usually his thing, but yeah, maybe we’ll do that,” Finn says. “You’re sure you don’t need me this weekend?”

“You’re his thing, and yeah, I’m sure,” Beck says. 

“Thanks, Natty.”

“You can return the favor sometime,” Beck says. “Just remember you owe me one.” 

“I’d never forget that,” Finn promises. 

Luckily, the rest of the afternoon is quiet, and Finn beats Kurt back to Finn’s apartment. Finn has already changed into jeans and an old T-shirt when he hears Kurt’s key in the door. Kurt’s body seems to lose some tension when he sees Finn, and he smiles. “A night in sounds good,” he says, dropping his bag and taking off his shoes. 

“Natty suggested we catch a ballgame this weekend,” Finn says. “What do you think about that? Just you and me, a couple of beers, maybe a hotdog?”

“You have to promise that we’ll sing along during the seventh inning stretch, then,” Kurt says. “Tomorrow night or Sunday afternoon?” 

“Either. You have any other plans?”

“My plans are whatever we decide to do,” Kurt says, sitting down close to Finn. “Any other preferences?” 

“We should probably both rest up for Fashion Week,” Finn says. He puts his arm around Kurt and pulls him in closer.

“I wasn’t going to drag you to that many events,” Kurt says, his body relaxing against Finn’s. “Why would you need to rest up?” 

“Welllll, it’s possible I’m going to end up at some Gaultier show or something? There’s a Picasso that was just discovered, and apparently it’s going to be the focus of the show,” Finn says. “And where there’s Picasso, there’s the Silver Fox.”

“Oh my God,” Kurt says, his body shaking momentarily, like he has a chill. “That’s the height of insanity. You don’t debut paintings at a runway show!” 

“Well, apparently you do if you’re Jean Paul Gaultier. It’s a huge deal, too. This painting has been hidden in a wall for 80 years. It’s a detail study of _Guernica_. You know, the one with the miserable people and the bull.”

“Yes. I’m familiar,” Kurt says softly. “It sounds foolish at best. Why would they divide people’s attention, even if there weren’t concerns about criminal activity?” 

Finn shrugs. “I still don’t know that much about fashion, outside of specific pieces of stolen couture.”

“I hope nothing happens. Or that Agent Beck is able to arrest the Silver Fox,” Kurt says. “That would be a very good outcome, right?” 

“Yeah, it would. Natty’s going to be talking to Gaultier’s people, and hopefully we’ll be able to protect the painting and catch the Fox,” Finn says. “Either way, I’m probably going to be spending a lot more time at Fashion Week than I ever thought I would.”

“Well, if you had to pick a place to unexpectedly spend more time, it’s probably the best one,” Kurt says, lifting his head and smiling at Finn before relaxing against him again. “And if you need to move around without flashing your badge, I can introduce you to people.” 

“That would actually be great,” Finn says. “I’ll talk to Natty about it on Monday.”

“You can be my long-suffering boyfriend, forced to accompany me, and we can pretend I hate going to baseball games,” Kurt teases. 

“You’ll pick out the best suit for me, right? And the fanciest tie?” 

“Of course. We should get you a new pair of shoes next week, too.” 

“Comfortable ones, right?” Finn asks. “I might have to chase somebody.”

“Comfortable shoes, but I promise I’ll let you catch me.” 

“Oh? Are you the one I’m going to be chasing?” Finn asks, moving his head so he can nudge Kurt’s ear with his nose. 

“Maybe. Maybe I like being caught by you,” Kurt says. “Do you like catching me?” 

“I do,” Finn says. He puts one hand on Kurt’s shoulder, turning him and laying him back against the sofa. Kurt smiles up at him. 

“Good.”

_Kurt can admit that his head is in the clouds more than usual as he heads back to work after spending his lunch with Finn. It’s probably because Kurt’s mind is already thinking ahead to dinner that he doesn’t spot Gabe in the crowd, or even sense someone watching him, not until he hears Gabe’s voice murmuring into his ear from behind._

_“And how has my pretty little boy been all these long, long years without me?”_

_Kurt jerks to the side, away from Gabe’s voice. “I’m not. I’m not any of those,” Kurt says, glaring at Gabe, who looks no different._

_“No?” Gabe asks. “I think you’re still as pretty as ever.”_

_“Leave me alone.”_

_“I have, haven’t I? All this time, even after you disappeared in Paris like that. You’ll never know how worried I was, Kurt. I didn’t even think to check the airport for hours,” Gabe says._

_“Good. Then keep leaving me alone. I have my own life,” Kurt says._

_“But how can I do that, my pretty boy? When I see you making such dangerous choices in…_ friends _,” Gabe says,_ tsking _at the idea. “An FBI agent? You’re playing a dangerous game, and when I hear on the wind how often my name is being invoked by this very same agent, well…” He reaches for Kurt’s face. Kurt jerks away; Gabe frowns. “Let’s just say that your FBI friend is the one who’s really in danger now.”_

_“Leave him alone,” Kurt hisses. “Leave me alone, leave him alone, leave us both alone.”_

_“Why?” Gabe asks, sounding genuinely confused._

_“_ Why _?” Kurt repeats. “Because neither of us has anything to do with you.”_

_“This is why I did the conning, and you did the errand-running,” Gabe says, with a dramatic sigh. “You never could lie worth a damn, Kurt. We both know that your friend has something to do with me, we both know he and his partner think they have an idea of what I’m looking for, and we both know that there are rumors of another professional giving information to the FBI. Kurt, that couldn’t be_ you _they’re talking about, could it?”_

_“I’m a managing editor at_ Vogue _. I don’t have information about anything but spring/summer trends for 2025. Finn doesn’t have your case. Go away.”_

_Gabe raises an eyebrow. “Finn? Not Finn, as in your step-brother?” He smiles unpleasantly. “Oh, Kurt. Really?”_

_“It’s a common name,” Kurt snaps._

_“Maybe it is, but I’m right, aren’t I? Finn the step-brother, now Finn the FBI agent, and he has no idea what it is you do for fun, does he? Oh, Kurt, I hope you care enough about your brother? Lover? To keep him out of danger.”_

_“Leave him alone. Leave_ me _alone. Go bother someone else, Gabe,” Kurt says as coldly as he can._

_Gabe shakes his head, the unpleasant smile still on his face. “No. No, I don’t think I will at all. I think that if your Finn has the misfortune to get in my way, I will very much enjoy hurting him—and you—as much as possible, in as many ways as possible. You know I can. You know I will.”_

_“Leave us alone,” Kurt repeats, keeping his voice from shaking, and he spins quickly before stalking into the building. He can hear Gabe calling after him as he goes._

_“Oh, it’s too late for that, my pretty little boy!”_

_Kurt holds himself together as he heads up to his floor and as he walks to his office, and then he locks the door as he slides down the back of it. He cries for at least five minutes, feeling cold even though it’s the last week of August, then carefully wipes his eyes and pulls himself back together, making sure that there’s no sign he’s been crying. He’ll be fine until the work day is over._

By the Thursday before Fashion Week, Finn is glad to see that Kurt, at least, is finally relaxing. Beck, on the other hand, is wound more tightly than Finn has ever seen her, snapping at the lab techs and the Probie, and once, to everyone’s surprise—including her own—Jones.

“Natty, you’ve got to take it down a notch or they’re going to just send you out door-to-door looking for your guy,” Finn whispers to her as he sets a fresh mug of coffee on her desk. “And I don’t want to spend my weekend like that.”

“That’d better not be another of Devlin’s attempts to slip me decaf,” Beck says with a glare at her coffee mug. “It’s not even noon.” 

“Jesus, Beck, I poured it myself!” Finn says. 

“She could have roped you into her schemes and machinations!” 

“I need an Agent Hudson,” a voice says from near the elevators. 

Finn looks up from Beck and her definitely-decaf coffee. “That’s me.”

“I’ve got a fancy package for you,” a courier says, offering Finn a pink box. 

Finn sighs. “Gloves?” he asks Beck. 

“She missed you,” Beck says as she hands Finn a pair. Finn puts the gloves on and takes the box after signing for it.

“I don’t want to lead him on,” Finn says, shifting the box’s weight to see if it slides, ticks, or does anything else suspicious. “I mean, I _am_ in a pretty serious relationship.”

“And she’s having a baby, so clearly it’s not like _that_ ,” Beck says. “Open it up. Maybe it’s a key to the Silver Fox’s hotel room or something!” 

“Maybe it’s a sonogram video and an invitation to a baby shower,” Finn says wryly, picking up a letter opener and carefully slicing open the tape on the box. On top of the box’s other contents is a sheet of heavy stationery, folded in half. Finn unfolds it and reads. 

_Agent Hudson,_

_As you are no doubt aware, Gabe—the Silver Fox—is in New York City. He has approached me twice, and he has threatened me, you, and your colleague. I believe her last name is Beck? Gabe is a dangerous man, and I must urge you to be very careful. He would not only not hesitate to harm you, he would enjoy causing you harm._

_I never intended to cause him to target you or anyone else. I thought this would be a way to make sure Gabe was punished for the people he’s hurt and killed, a way to put the last bits of that old life behind me. I’ve tried to tell you everything I can remember, even if it seems irrelevant: favorite hotels, favorite restaurants, favorite clubs, favorite wines. I don’t have any recordings of his voice, but I can tell you how calm and cultured and smooth it is. He doesn’t look very different from the last time I had seen him, not even appreciably older._

_I too have seen the press release regarding next week’s unveiling of the Picasso at the Gaultier show. I have to assume you recognize its importance and the certainty that Gabe will be there. If I hear anything or have further contact with him, or think of anything else that I have forgotten, I will contact you._

The letter is signed only with the same colored-pencil pink diamond from before. Under it, the box is filled with other pieces of folded heavy stationery. As Finn pulls them out one by one, he notes that each piece of paper is titled and contains a list, one of wine preferences, one of hotels, and so forth. 

“Shit, Natty,” Finn says. “They definitely had more than just a professional relationship, if the Pink Diamond knows all of this about the Fox.” He waits for Beck to put on her own gloves, then hands her the box. 

“This is an enormous amount of information,” Beck says as she pages through the lists. “What does the letter say?” 

“That the Silver Fox has approached him twice recently. He knows who we are, by name, apparently, and the Pink Diamond wants us to be careful,” Finn says. He offers the letter to Beck. 

She reads the letter silently, then a second time, shaking her head. “The Pink Diamond’s scared, Hudson.” 

“Yeah, I can see why,” Finn says. “This guy sounds a lot like Kurt’s ex, the one he was seeing while I was in the army. I just don’t get guys like that.”

“Power. Control,” Beck says almost absently. “The Silver Fox wants to control all of the Picasso works in existence.” She looks through the box again, then inhales sharply. “Hudson, did you see this?” 

“What?” Finn asks. Beck picks up one of the pieces of paper, the last of a list of favored art galleries in the New York area, and points to the block of text written out. 

_“Some people find Picasso’s works ugly. His Cubist works in particular can be visually jarring to the untrained eye. I’ve always found a certain kinship with how Picasso saw the world. He took something pretty, and he tore it apart, he destroyed it, and then he reassembled the pieces into something new and even more beautiful.”_

“Holy shit,” Finn breathes. “I think the Pink Diamond was definitely right to be scared of this guy. I feel kind of sick just reading it.”

Beck nods. “I’ve never really felt badly for a suspect before, but your Pink Diamond? I kind of do, right at this second. I think the Silver Fox is one of the more twisted minds we’ve dealt with. Most people are motivated by greed. This isn’t greed.” 

“You’ve got to catch this guy, Natty.”

“We already know the security’s likely to be compromised. We’re just going to have to be on-site all day next Friday,” Beck says. “Kurt’s still fine taking you around not as FBI personnel?” 

“I think he’s excited he gets to bring his boyfriend to all the Fashion Week stuff,” Finn says. “It’s kind of fun for me, too, getting to be part of what he does every day.”

“You’re cute, Hudson. Maybe that cuteness will help us find an establishment in the city that’s sold one of these fifteen wines in the last two weeks?” Beck says, holding up the shortest list in the box. 

“I already know the answer to this one. Wine suppliers for the restaurants, and auction houses for the more expensive stuff. I bet Kurt even has a list of them somewhere.”

“And this is one reason you’re my favorite coworker,” Beck says. “Wouldn’t it be fun if his weakness for wine gave him away?” 

“It might be more fun if he choked on it,” Finn says. “I really want to watch you put cuffs on this asshole. It’ll make it onto my top ten list.”

“Oh yeah? What’s number one?” 

“How am I supposed to know that? I haven’t lived my whole life yet!”

“Oh, it involves sex. Understood,” Beck says. 

Finn shrugs. “Still doesn’t mean it’s happened yet,” he says. “There’s always a chance something’ll knock it out of the top spot, too.”

Beck snorts. “I’m going to start a pool on this one.” 

“No way. Totally unprofessional. You need to focus on your perp!” Finn says. 

“As soon as those cuffs clink closed, I’m on it,” Beck says. “And I’m claiming ‘involves Kurt’ before I let anyone else in on it.” 

“That’s so obvious, it shouldn’t even qualify, Natty.”

Beck shrugs. “Easy money.”

“At this rate, I’m going to be asked to write a piece for the web, in addition to my assignments for the print side, about my own boyfriend,” Kurt says as he straightens Finn’s tie. The tie doesn’t seem to move, and it may be an excuse for Kurt to press against Finn, because he follows it up with kissing Finn’s cheek and then his ear.

“I’m good arm candy, at least?” Finn asks. 

“You look _excellent_ on my arm, and that’s not even at the top of the list of reasons I’m glad you’re here,” Kurt says. He kisses Finn again, this time on the lips, then slides to the side and takes Finn’s arm. 

“Remember, we’re looking for a man with silvery-white hair, so if you see someone like that, just point him out to me,” Finn says.

“And then get out of the way?” Kurt asks. “Assuming it’s a man I don’t recognize, that is.” 

“Right. Yeah, I know that description fits a lot of guys here. I just want you to be careful. This guy is dangerous, so if you think it might be him, just get the hell away from him, okay?” 

“Okay. Other than that, are you prepared to meet even more people who are going to size you up?” Kurt asks. “You look _very_ nice, by the way.” 

“Not as nice as you. _You_ look like somebody should take you home and do lots of sexy things to you,” Finn says. 

“Are you volunteering to fulfill that role?” Kurt asks as he leads them into the main room. 

“Always,” Finn says. “Every day.”

“Excellent news.” Kurt picks up a drink for each of them, handing one glass to Finn. “Non-alcoholic,” he whispers. 

“Thanks.” Finn kisses Kurt’s temple, then gently brushes Kurt’s hair off his forehead. “God, I love you.”

Kurt smiles as they walk away from the drink table. “Other than the reason for it, this week is really very enjoyable,” he says to Finn. “Maybe you should plan to come in February for fall/winter.” 

“Yeah? Fashion for pleasure? I could live with that.”

“I think you’re enjoying it more than Agent Beck,” Kurt says under his breath. 

“Natty would probably like it more if she had a hot date like I do,” Finn says. “Maybe you can introduce her to somebody. Ooh, we could do double-dates!”

Kurt laughs. “Do you think she’d prefer a model, a celebrity guest, or a journalist?” 

“All of the above,” Finn says, smiling back at Kurt, and a little bit at the idea of Beck with a six-foot-tall model on her arm.

“Hmm.” Kurt takes a sip of his drink. “Taylor Swift or Kristen Stewart, do you think?” 

“I think Natty wouldn’t kick either one of them out of bed for eating crackers,” Finn says. 

“I’ll find one tomorrow and the other Thursday, then,” Kurt says. “I feel like every man here suddenly looks like he’s either under thirty or over fifty-five.” 

“Just relax. All you have to do is be the managing editor of _Vogue_ and introduce me to people. I’ll do all the recon,” Finn says. “Oh, hey, is that Beyoncé? I want to meet the queen!”

Kurt laughs. “I can definitely introduce you to Beyoncé.” 

The rest of the party is more fun than Finn expected, and after the party, Finn takes Kurt home and does exactly what he’d said someone should do to Kurt, many sexy things. They go to two parties on Wednesday night, put in a brief appearance at a party on Thursday, and attend several runway shows during the day on both days. Finn could actually see himself attending as Kurt’s date in the spring, even without the imminent threat of theft and murder. 

Kurt spends Thursday night at his own place, alone, because he has to file a story. He texts Finn to meet him at 7:30 for breakfast at Laurie Lee’s, so Finn is up, dressed as befits an FBI agent/ _Vogue_ -editor’s boyfriend, and already almost to the restaurant when Beck calls.

“Hey,” Finn says. “I’m on my way to meet Kurt for breakfast. Did you—”

“The Pink Diamond just texted me,” Beck says in a rush. “She’s with the Fox right now and says she’s backstage at the Gaultier show. Can you get there before me?” 

“Yeah, I’m close. Did the Diamond say the Fox was armed?”

“No. I think we have to assume he is.” 

“Okay,” Finn says. “I’m on my way. Hurry. I don’t want to be stuck without backup!”

“On my way!” Beck says, and Finn can hear the echo of a siren before the call ends.

Finn doesn’t take the time to call or text Kurt. He starts running, sprinting the three blocks to the Paley Center. The guards Finn expects outside aren’t there, which is already an ominous enough sign on its own, but when Finn tries the door, it’s unlocked and no alarm sounds. He draws his weapon, slowly shouldering the door open for the clearest line of sight possible as he enters the building. 

Inside, the building is quiet. Finn walks down the hallway and up a flight of stairs to the backstage area, where they’d been briefed that the painting was being kept. He toes the door open, not seeing any movement backstage, so he slips in through the door. The bodies of two guards are slumped against the back wall, just inside the door, throats slit open, just like the Silver Fox’s other victims. 

Beside several racks of garment bags, the wooden frame that should hold _Study of Horse and Bull_ is empty, the canvas cut or pulled away from the frame. As Finn slowly circles the frame, he can hear voices coming from beyond the curtain, out on the catwalk. The voices echo, distorted by the heavy black velvet drapery and the empty room beyond. Finn moves to the opening in the center of the curtains, weapon up. 

When he pushes through the curtains, Finn sees Kurt on the far left side of the stage, holding a long black garment bag in front of him, almost like a shield. Finn lowers his gun, staring at Kurt in confusion. 

“—should leave this city, this— _no_ ,” Kurt says, sounding angry and then horrified. “No, you’re not supposed to be here!” 

“Kurt?” Finn says, his arms lowering until his gun is pointed at the floor, watching Kurt drop the garment bag. “I don’t underst—”

Something hot and hard loops around Finn’s throat, jerking him back, his weapon clattering to the floor. Red and wet, cascading down the front of his shirt, Kurt screaming in the background, Kurt screaming…

_Kurt can’t feel_ good _about Gabe’s presence in New York, but after sending the information and hearing from Finn about what they’re able to do with it, Kurt goes to work on the Friday before Fashion Week begins feeling better than he has since Gabe stopped him. Kurt pauses for more coffee, and when he leaves the Starbucks, he freezes at the person in front of him._

_“Why are you here?” Kurt demands._

_“I was going to offer you a job, but with_ that _reception,” Gabe says, feigning offence._

_“I don’t want any kind of job you’d be offering. I have a job. Again, why are you here?”_

_“Oh, I think you might want this one,” Gabe says. “After all, it’s designed to keep your FBI lover and his partner safe. I think we’d both agree that’s an important goal for you?”_

_“He’s quite capable of keeping himself safe. Unlike you. You’re incapable of keeping yourself from chasing rumors and paintings, aren’t you?”_

_Gabe frowns. “I thought we had already established what a bad liar you are. It’s more than a rumor, Kurt, as I’m sure you know. Why not just let me have it? It’s what I really want, what I’ve always wanted, and you know how doggedly I pursue the things I really want.”_

_“You need to leave this city. I don’t want to see you ever again, and this is_ my _city,” Kurt says firmly._

_“Not until I get what I came for. I hear it’s arriving early Friday afternoon, just in time for the early evening show. It’s smaller than the original, but then, an eleven foot by twenty-six foot painting_ would _be quite the feat to steal alone, wouldn’t it?” Gabe says, laughing. He looks down at his watch. “Oh, dear me, the time is just flying. So lovely to see you again, my pretty little boy.”_

_“Don’t. Don’t call me that.”_

_Gabe flashes a white smile, winking at Kurt as he disappears into the crowd of people walking. Kurt shudders and wishes he’d gotten a hot coffee, despite the temperature outside, and he realizes as he goes into the building that, thanks to work and his own desire to spend time with Finn, he has very limited amounts of time to figure out what he should do about Gabe’s implied threats and the additional suggestion that the publicized timeline is not the real one._

_Kurt doesn’t like the conclusions that he comes to over the weekend, but by Wednesday midday he realizes that there’s only one solution he can conceive of that ends with Gabe behind bars or at the very least out of New York and not in possession of_ Study of Horse and Bull _. Kurt won’t take credit for it, but the Pink Diamond will have to pull off one final heist._

_The preparation is horribly simple. He buys a prepaid cell phone at a busy pharmacy not on his usual routes, programming only two numbers into it: Finn’s and Beck’s. He finds an empty garment bag that matches the ones Gaultier will be using, and he decides that he’ll have to use a knife to remove the painting from the frame. Kurt knows he can’t get around the security, which means he’ll have to plan on tripping it, taking his work computer and notes and lying his way out of why he’s there. The painting can sit it its garment bag for hours if necessary, and if the FBI finds it, it will still keep Gabe from stealing it and putting Finn and Beck at risk._

_Gaultier is arrogant, but Kurt thinks neither Gaultier himself nor the company is so arrogant as to attempt a second unveiling of the painting after it gets stolen once._

_Kurt does have to file a story on Thursday evening, and that is his best opportunity to take care of things without putting Finn at risk, since there are rumors that the painting could be arriving as early as Thursday evening. If it’s not there when Kurt goes on Friday morning, there’s not much he can do, but if it is, he can preempt Gabe._

_When Kurt gets to the Paley Center, the guards recognize him and let him in, then open the doors so he can get a ‘sneak peek’ at Gaultier’s designs. Kurt decides that he’ll possibly claim that someone knocked him down, when the guards return after the security system is tripped, and he hopes they don’t get into too much trouble._

_Kurt takes a deep breath before setting things up, hanging the garment bag as close to the painting has he can. He pulls on leather gloves before getting out his knife, and then takes another deep breath, preparing to hear the security system go off as he makes the first cut._

_Nothing happens, and Kurt’s hand freezes for a few seconds before he starts cutting again frantically. If the security system isn’t going off, that means Gabe already has it compromised, which could mean Gabe is anywhere in the building. As soon as the painting is off the frame, Kurt drops the knife into his bag and rolls the canvas, shoving it into the garment bag and zipping it closed. He pauses to prepare a text on his phone to Beck, typing out_ At the Paley Center Fox here PD _, in case he needs to send it._

_“Hello, my pretty boy,” Gabe says, his quiet voice cutting through the silence of the Paley Center. “Decided to join me after all?”_

_“There’s nothing here for you,” Kurt says as calmly as he can. “There’s nothing here for you, and you can leave now.” He presses the send button on the text, hoping Beck isn’t sleeping in before the afternoon and evening._

_“No. I’m sorry, Kurt, but I don’t think I can,” Gabe says. “You have something that belongs to me. Give it to me now.”_

_“It doesn’t belong to you,” Kurt says, slowly walking towards the stage and the dressing area. He could still manage to get the bag onto the racks, even before Beck arrives. “And neither do I.”_

_“Who should have it but me?” Gabe demands, a vein standing out in his forehead as he raises his voice. “Eighty years! They left it inside a wall for eighty years. They forgot about it! This masterpiece, hidden inside some rotting wall in Paris, but I always knew! I knew I’d find it some day. I knew it was out there! Now, give it to me, little boy, before I have to take it from you.”_

_“No,” Kurt says, holding the garment bag between himself and Gabe as he walks backwards across the stage. “You should leave this city, this—_ no _!” Kurt stares at the back of the stage, where Finn has just walked through the drapery. “No, you’re not supposed to be here!” Gabe looks delighted when he spots Finn, and Kurt feels frozen as he takes in Finn’s shock coupled with Gabe moving towards Finn, drawing out a wire that Kurt remembers seeing just once before. Finn’s arm is limp at his side, and Kurt screams._

A shot rings out across the empty room. Finn’s ears ring, too, and everything around him is too bright and too loud as he drops forward. Kurt is sobbing as he presses something rough and wadded up against Finn’s neck. Finn sees the Silver Fox beside him, swaying on his feet as a thin trickle of blood runs down his temple. The Silver Fox puts one hand to the blood and then topples forward, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Finn sees Kurt’s face hovering over him, his eyes wet and bright, and Finn tries to reach up to wipe the tears off Kurt’s face, but he can’t move his arm. “It’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, stay awake,” Kurt is saying to Finn. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to be here.” 

Beck’s voice is farther away, shouting ‘Agent down!’ repeatedly, followed by “At the Paley Center, you idiots!” There’s the sound of handcuffs closing, followed by Beck saying, “Just in case, you son of a bitch.”

“Beck got him, stay awake,” Kurt says, and Beck walks over to them. 

“Hudson! Hudson, are you with me?” 

Finn tries to answer, but his mouth won’t do what it’s supposed to do. He manages to wheeze “Pink.”

“Pink?” Beck repeats. 

Finn can’t nod, but he can blink, so he blinks. “Diamond,” he whispers, then everything goes black.

Pink.

Pink light, filtering in between white blinds, covering a large window. 

Finn’s mouth is dry and cottony, and his throat feels thick, but nothing hurts. He recognizes that he _should_ be in pain, which means he must be medicated. He moves his arm slightly and lowers his eyes; yes, an IV is buried in his left arm. 

He lets his eyes slowly sweep the room. Kurt is curled up in a chair, sleeping. He looks like an angel from a renaissance painting. Finn almost starts to smile before he remembers that isn’t true. Kurt might look like an angel, but that’s not what he is. Finn saw him with a bag in his hands. Finn knows who he is. 

The room is otherwise empty, so Finn tries to speak. His first attempt is just a soft breath of air, but he moves his tongue around his mouth a little, trying to dampen it, and tries again, actually managing a whisper this time.

“Pink. Diamond.” 

Kurt moves, then starts as his eyes blink at Finn. “You’re awake,” Kurt says quietly, standing up and picking up an insulated cup before walking over to Finn. “Ice chip?” 

Finn tries to nod, but his neck feels stiff, bundled up, so he blinks hard instead. “You,” he whispers, watching Kurt. 

“You weren’t supposed to get hurt,” Kurt says as he fishes out one piece of ice and puts it to Finn’s lips. “He wanted to hurt you.” 

Finn lets the ice melt against his lips, wetting his mouth, before he asks, “Why?”

“Which why?” Kurt says. Finn stares back at Kurt, his eyes and body and heart all feeling so heavy and tired.

“You?” Finn asks. 

Kurt sighs and offers Finn a second piece of ice. “After I left Gabe, I felt like… I felt like it was a way for me to say ‘fuck you’ to him. It became a habit. A way of life, even.” 

The ice melts on Finn’s lips again. He looks away and runs his dry tongue against it, swallowing the tiny trickle of water before looking up again. “Me?” he asks. 

“I wasn’t lying,” Kurt says softly. “I did find something better.” 

Finn looks away again, because it’s more than he can stand. He just wants to close his eyes again and sleep until none of this is real. He pats along the top of the blanket with his right hand, feeling for the button he knows is there. When he finds it, he presses it, and after only a moment, he feels the morphine rushing into his body. Finn closes his eyes and sinks into sleep.

“You faking, Hudson?” Beck’s voice asks next. 

Finn’s eyelids feel heavy as they flutter open. He wonders if Beck has already arrested Kurt, or if that will come later. If he’ll have to see it himself. “Kurt?”

“He’s downstairs, getting something to eat. I don’t think he’s eaten all day,” Beck says. “The two of you didn’t even make it to breakfast. You’re going to be fine with some time. Thankfully, you’re tall. That wire got mostly caught on your clavicle. They had to order a lot of units of blood for you, but no arteries were nicked. You might end up sounding like a two-pack-a-day smoker, too, but he didn’t cut all the way through your vocal cords.” 

“Looks. Bad?” Finn asks, gesturing up at his throat and upper chest area, which he realizes now is heavily bandaged. 

“They had to do some muscle repair and stitches, but the outer stitches, they got a plastic surgeon in here, so you’ll be almost good as new when you’re recovered. The worst part is, I didn’t have you available to snap a picture,” Beck says teasingly. 

Finn tries to smile, but the effort is tiring enough that he quits before he fully manages one. “Fox?” he asks. “Dead?”

“I got him on the first shot. Cuffed him anyway,” Beck says. “The Pink Diamond was already gone. One of the few known aliases we have for her got on a plane at JFK before we realized.” When Finn doesn’t say anything, Beck continues. “Hudson?” 

Finn attempts a nod, blinking his eyes hard once. “Her,” he says, forcing the smile onto his face this time. “You. Win.”

“You can wait and pay up when you’re recovered,” Beck says. “I probably forgot something. Any questions?” 

“Pic. Ture?”

Beck winces. “Luckily, you’re not being charged for the very expensive bandage that Kurt used. There’s a guy at the Louvre, Nathan Moreau, who’s going to do his best to restore it.” Finn raises his eyebrows at the name, and Beck laughs. “Yeah, we’ll keep letting ASAC pretend it’s a big secret, right?” 

“Right,” Finn whispers. His throat and shoulders start to burn and throb again, so he feels for the button, pressing it with his thumb. “Good. Job.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hudson,” Beck says. “Kurt’ll be back soon.” 

Finn closes his eyes again and lets the morphine pull him back under. The next time he wakes up, he hears Kurt and ASAC Burke talking to each other. Finn’s eyes stay closed while they talk. 

“Some of them can’t ever stop,” Burke says. “But I heard retirement rumors that seemed solid.” 

“They’re true,” Kurt says, his voice firm, and then neither of them speak for a minute. “Not everyone is a Nathan Moreau.” 

“Fair enough,” Burke says, sounding amused. “Fair enough.”

Kurt perches on the edge of the bed next to Finn after that, his hand resting lightly on Finn’s wrist. “Finn,” he says quietly. “Finn, ASAC Burke’s here to see you.” 

Finn opens his eyes, barely nodding his head. “Sir.”

“Glad to see you awake,” Burke says. “You had a close encounter with two different suspects today.” 

“Sir,” Finn says in agreement. “Got.” He licks his lips a little to moisten them before continuing. “Away.”

“I think we all would have liked to see the Silver Fox stand trial, but we can’t be sorry that Gabriel Farmer is off the street.” Kurt jumps a little, then makes a strangled sound like he’s trying not to laugh. “Oh yes, I think we all had a good laugh at that one, Mr. Hummel. The Pink Diamond, however, appears to be bound for Vanuatu. I hear they have no extradition to the United States, so he or she really must be planning to shake your hand.” 

Burke pauses, clearly gearing up for something. “Some suspects really are special, Hudson. We form a bond with them in many ways. And the criminal life holds a different allure for different suspects. It doesn’t make their actions right, but it means we want to keep them around. We want to rehabilitate them and make sure they’ve really reformed. We even find ourselves wanting to be their conscience and keep them on the right path. But sometimes, we have to—”

“Let. Go,” Finn interjects. He looks past ASAC Burke at Kurt, who is seated in the chair again, his face bright red and his expression absolutely mortified, which cheers Finn up a little. 

“That’s right, sometimes we have to let them make their own decisions,” Burke says. “Once you’re feeling at fifty or sixty percent, El expects you over for dinner. I’m sure Little Neal would love to hear about how you had a hundred million dollar bandage.”

Finn’s eyes cut over to Kurt again, and he now looks both mortified and sheepish. Finn gives ASAC Burke his blink-nod. “I’ll. Bring. Wine.”

“Sounds good,” Burke says, nodding at Finn and then looking briefly at Kurt before leaving.

When the door closes, Kurt gets up from the chair, lying down carefully beside Finn. He takes a couple of deep breaths before he starts talking. 

“I thought that if you never knew, it would be better. I didn’t want you to have to know,” Kurt says quietly. “I knew that from the beginning, but I didn’t expect you to be the one who had my case. I knew I’d rather have you than opera gloves and Birkin bags, you know?”

Kurt slides his arm slowly around Finn’s waist, his body carefully angled to avoid the areas of Finn that are bandaged. “I wanted to leave all of it in the past, so we didn’t have to deal with it. I don’t have a good defense. It was a ‘fuck you’ to Gabe and then it was a habit, and I wanted to—”

Finn puts one finger against Kurt’s lips. “Let. Go.”

Kurt freezes, then starts to move his arm again as he rolls to the side. “I—”

Finn catches Kurt by the T-shirt, which he actually recognizes as one of his own. “Let. Go,” Finn repeats, pulling Kurt forward by the shirt. Kurt still looks startled, but he leans in and kisses Finn. As they kiss, Finn’s face gets wet, and when Kurt pulls back to look at Finn, his eyes are full of tears. 

“I didn’t want to lose you,” Kurt whispers. “But if you want me to go…” 

Finn barely shakes his head, putting his hand on Kurt’s face. “No. More. Lies.”

Kurt nods, his eyes on Finn. “No more lies. I promise.” 

Finn pulls Kurt down against his chest, one arm loosely around him. He presses the morphine button again, then gently strokes Kurt’s hair. “Love you,” Finn says. 

“Oh, Finn. I love you too.” 

“Good,” Finn whispers, drifting back to sleep with Kurt’s head resting lightly on his shoulder.

_The days that Finn remains in the hospital are punctuated mostly by two more awkward visits from ASAC Burke and a series of confused phone calls from Carole, who had eventually been notified of Finn’s injury as his emergency contact. The hospital had helpfully reassured her that Finn’s work colleagues and boyfriend were with him, something Kurt hadn’t known when he’d called her himself an hour or two later._

_After the doctor goes through his list of what Finn can and cannot do for the next few weeks, including lifting too much weight or attempting too much range of motion, Kurt stops the doctor in the hallway and asks him straight out if it means Kurt needs to do most or all of the work in bed. The doctor turns bright red but nods, which is the information Kurt needed._

_“Are you ready to go, or did you want to wait for one more hospital breakfast?” Kurt asks Finn when the discharge paperwork is finished early in the morning._

_“Take me home,” Finn says, in his new slightly-raspy voice._

_“I thought so,” Kurt admits, pressing the button for an orderly to take them to the lobby. “Before you get home… I did rearrange a few things, like I mentioned.”_

_“I like my coffee table,” Finn grumbles._

_“You are not tripping over something and ripping out stitches,” Kurt says. “And I didn’t actually displace that many things. I just needed some place for my clothes that wasn’t a chair in your kitchen.”_

_“My legs work fine,” Finn says, still grumbling._

_“The doctor said that you need to restrict your movement for several more weeks,” Kurt says. There’s a line of taxis waiting outside the hospital, which at least means Kurt doesn’t have to flag one down or deal with a series of them passing, unwilling to stop for a recently discharged patient. Once they’re inside a taxi, Kurt puts his hand on Finn’s leg. “The faster you heal, the faster you’ll be cleared to go back to work.”_

_“Ready to get rid of me already?” Finn asks. “We’re not even home yet.”_

_“You’re the one grumbling,” Kurt says. “I can work from anywhere. It’s not ideal to watch the runway shows via Skype, but they’re mainly saying that to complain.”_

_“I’m not an invalid. It’s just my neck.”_

_“Your neck and your shoulders, and it wasn’t like he was using ordinary rope,” Kurt says as he frowns at Finn. “You weren’t so quick to declare yourself not an invalid when I told you I was telling_ Vogue _I wasn’t traveling this month or next.”_

_“I wanna spend some time with you. Not in the hospital,” Finn says. “Missed you.”_

_“I know. I missed you, too,” Kurt says. The taxi stops in front of Finn’s building, and Kurt climbs out on the opposite side before going around to open Finn’s door. “Just lean on me and don’t argue.”_

_“Yes, sir,” Finn says, leaning some of his weight on Kurt and letting himself be helped up to the apartment._

_“In theory, there’s a clear path between the door and the bed,” Kurt explains as he unlocks the door, looking at Finn and feeling suddenly nervous about the fact that, on top of everything else, he’s rearranged Finn’s apartment without very much of Finn’s input._

_“Bed’s good,” Finn says, with no comment about the apartment. “You joining me in it?”_

_“The doctor said you had to lie very, very still,” Kurt says._

_Finn smiles. “I can do that. I can be soooo still.”_

_“Then today is the day to practice that,” Kurt says, walking slowly with Finn through the apartment to the bedroom. “I have to make sure you don’t exert yourself too much. Other than that directive, we’re good.”_

_“Yes, sir. No exertion, no moving,” Finn says. “I’m okay. Really, Kurt, I’m fine.”_

_Kurt doesn’t say anything until Finn is sitting on the bed, and he can feel his eyes tearing up. “But you weren’t,” he says softly._

_“But I am now,” Finn insists._

_“You_ will _be,” Kurt says as he sits down beside Finn, one hand on Finn’s thigh. In the immediate aftermath, there had been so many things to do, and even during the rest of Finn’s hospital stay, and it makes sitting on the bed with Finn, like everything is completely ordinary, suddenly feel like the first time Kurt’s stopped. “I could have lost you.”_

_“There’s a lot of ‘could haves’, Kurt,” Finn says quietly. “You could have never gone to the Paley Center to begin with. You could have been hurt instead of me. Beck could have gotten there first, or gotten there too late, but none of that happened. You can’t make yourself crazy with the ‘could haves’ when we’re both sitting right here, and none of us ever have to worry about the Silver Fox again.”_

_Kurt shudders a little. “We’re giving Beck very, very nice Christmas presents for the rest of our lives, right?”_

_“Yeah, and you’re going to introduce her to somebody hot and famous. Doesn’t matter if it sticks, but she gets a first date, at least.”_

_“I’ll get her as many first dates as it takes,” Kurt promises. “I did tell you my ex was horrible.”_

_Finn sighs and takes Kurt’s hand in his. “Yeah, you did tell me. And you helped us find him. You didn’t want me or Natty to get hurt.”_

_“I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, but especially the two of you. I had been so paranoid for years after I left him, and I’d never spotted him in a crowd or heard from him. I didn’t think he’d crop up in my life as anything other than a news story,” Kurt says. “I think I’ll be happy to go the rest of my life without ever hearing ‘my pretty little boy’ again.”_

_“Well, there’s a zero percent chance I’d ever call you something creepy like that, so I think we’re set,” Finn says._

_“I do have one… well, I suppose it’s a confession of sorts,” Kurt says. “Ms. Lancaster received a very generous sum in cash for one of her pieces.”_

_Finn smiles. “So you’re an honest thief now?”_

_“Maybe I’ll write a side piece for_ Vogue _about enlivening your decor with one piece of fine art,” Kurt says. “I realized it was the one thing that still made me happy when I looked at it.”_

_“Then we’ll display it in three years, when the statute of limitations is up,” Finn says. “It’s my favorite, too.”_

_“I love you,” Kurt says, kissing Finn gently. “I hope you don’t mind that you’re going to have to help me learn to stay on a budget.”_

_“Yeah, that I can do.”_

_“I could get you season tickets for the Mets before I go on that budget. Or one of the football teams,” Kurt offers with a smile._

_“I don’t know. I might feel guilty, watching a ballgame on someone else’s money like that,” Finn says._

_“Would you feel more or less guilty if it were one of the boxes?”_

_Finn laughs. “Probably less. Hard to feel guilty when the seats are that good.”_

_“That’s what I thought,” Kurt says wryly. “I truly don’t want to do anything that you’re too uncomfortable with, but one splurge, I thought.”_

_Finn nods, wincing a little. “It’ll be a big change for you, I know. It’s a change for me, too. I still don’t know how I feel about all of this. I know I love you, and I know I want you here with me, but the rest of it? It’s still hard to wrap my mind around. I’ve broken the law now, too.”_

_“You’re in good company, and I don’t mean me,” Kurt says. “Your ASAC has several times, I’m almost certain. I_ am _sorry that you know all of the nitty-gritty details. It would have been easier if the Pink Diamond had just retired anonymously.”_

_“But he’s really retired?” Finn asks. “No chance of recidivism?”_

_“He’s really retired,” Kurt says as he nods. “It was never my whole life. I have a very good, full life as myself.”_

_“Good. Me, too,” Finn says._

_“If you ever want to know more, just ask,” Kurt says. “And if you don’t, tell me that, too. I don’t want to hide anything else, but I don’t want to force knowledge on you.”_

_“I might ask some day, but not today,” Finn says. He pulls Kurt to him, kissing him softly. Kurt turns, carefully propping himself up and making sure not to bump against Finn’s bandages._

_“Not today,” Kurt agrees. “I’d like to just be Kurt and Finn, today.”_

_“Yeah, me, too.” Finn runs his hand through Kurt’s hair, his other hand on Kurt’s leg as they kiss again._

_“You should lie down, then, so you can show me how very still you can be,” Kurt says, then laughs. “That poor doctor.”_

_“At least you won’t worry now?” Finn says, scooting back on the bed and lying down flat._

_“I might worry anyway, but at least I had some fun with him,” Kurt says, starting to unbutton Finn’s shirt. “I think worrying is my prerogative. You can worry about, I don’t know. Unhemmed pants causing a mass fall in the_ Vogue _hallways.”_

_“Yeah, that sounds good,” Finn says. He lifts his body enough for Kurt to carefully remove the shirt, then lies back down again._

_Kurt runs the tips of his fingers down Finn’s torso, looking up at Finn with a soft smile. “I love you so much.” The depth of his feelings surprises Kurt a little, given that he was the one that pursued Finn initially. It seems like he should expect it or even have known, but as Kurt stares at Finn, he feels like his chest is almost aching. “I love you,” he repeats._

_“I love you,” Finn says. “We’re both going to be fine.”_

_“More than fine.” Kurt pulls off his shirt and tosses it on the floor, then puts his hands on the front of Finn’s sweatpants, running his palms over Finn’s hips before sliding his fingers under the waistband. “You know what’s handy?”_

_“The fact that I can’t really get up and leave, even if I wanted to?” Finn guesses. “Which I don’t, by the way.”_

_“That actually wasn’t it,” Kurt says, leaning down and kissing Finn. “It was that while you’re recuperating, if I need a break from writing, I can just bring you in here any time during the day.”_

_“That is pretty handy,” Finn says running his hands down Kurt’s arms._

_“And very nice,” Kurt says, sitting up enough to tug on Finn’s pants. “We’ll be going through withdrawal once you’re back at a hundred percent.”_

_“Without the Pink Diamond to chase, I won’t be pulling so much overtime, at least,” Finn says. He lifts his hips slightly, so Kurt can remove Finn’s pants and underwear completely, sliding them past Finn’s knees and then putting them onto the floor._

_“I can send you off to work with a very nice handkerchief, if you want,” Kurt says. He slides his hands up Finn’s legs, pressing his lips to Finn’s thighs and alternating sides as he moves up Finn’s legs._

_Finn laughs. “Yeah, they didn’t let me keep the other one, you know. Evidence.”_

_“I didn’t know you wouldn’t ever get it back,” Kurt says, making a face at Finn. “All things considered, I didn’t have a lot of necessary knowledge.”_

_“If I’d realized you needed to pump me for information, I’m sure I could’ve helped a little more,” Finn says. “Next time, no secret messages. Just straight up ask me for classified information, okay?”_

_“While I have my mouth on you, maybe?” Kurt asks. “You might tell me all sorts of important information then. What designer you_ really _like best. How exasperating the FBI holiday party will really be.”_

_“Yeah, I’d probably tell you anything you wanted to know,” Finn says._

_“Like this?” Kurt kisses near the base of Finn’s cock, then takes it into his mouth slowly. Finn moans, and even that sounds slightly raspy. Kurt isn’t sure if that will stay, the rasp that leaves him feeling guilty every time he hears it, and he feels even guiltier for not being sure if he wants it to go or not._

_Finn puts one hand on the back of Kurt’s head, tangling his fingers in Kurt’s hair. “Yeah, just like that. State secrets, anything you want,” Finn says._

_Kurt moves his lips slowly up and down Finn’s cock a few times before he looks up at Finn, barely releasing him to talk. “Or you could just say nice things about me.”_

_“I can do that,” Finn says, his fingers tightening and then loosening again in Kurt’s hair. “I can tell you I love you. I can tell you how sexy you are, and how_ smart _you are. God, you’re smart, Kurt. Always one step ahead of me.”_

_Kurt runs his hands up Finn’s sides as he takes more of Finn’s cock into his mouth, trying to wrap his tongue completely around it, and he shakes his head a little. Finn moans again, thrusting just barely up into Kurt’s mouth. Kurt closes his eyes, moving his mouth just a little faster on Finn and letting himself lose track of everything but Finn right there with him._

_“Not smarter,” Kurt says when he pulls back, his lips hovering over the tip of Finn’s cock. “If I’d been smarter, there wouldn’t have been a step ahead to stay.”_

_“Doesn’t matter anymore. I caught you,” Finn says. “And you caught me.”_

_“I like it,” Kurt says, then puts his mouth over Finn’s cock again, moving faster than before. Finn lets out a hoarse cry, both his hands twining in Kurt’s hair now, pulling Kurt back._

_“I want to be in you,” Finn says._

_“Yeah,” Kurt says as he nods, leaning forward to kiss Finn. He picks up the lube from the table beside the bed, pouring some onto his hand before wrapping his hand around Finn’s cock. “Can you stay very still and let me do all the work?”_

_“Am I allowed to lie?”_

_“You aren’t really any better at lying than I am,” Kurt says, one eyebrow raised. He keeps his hand stroking slowly as he smiles at Finn._

_“Then no, I probably can’t,” Finn says. “I can lie sort of still and let you do_ most _of the work.”_

_“I suppose I can work with that.” Kurt carefully straddles Finn before lowering himself onto Finn’s cock, much more slowly than necessary. “Should I go slower?”_

_“Kurrrrrt,” Finn grumbles. He lifts his hips slightly, putting his hands on Kurt’s thighs and pressing down with light pressure._

_“No?” Kurt says, dropping down a little faster until Finn is completely inside him. “Should I just stay still, so I can show you how to do it?”_

_“No, I’ll be still, I won’t move,” Finn promises, relaxing his arms so his hands are merely resting on Kurt’s thighs._

_Kurt laughs as he lifts up. “I convinced you already?” He leans forward just enough to plant one hand on the bed next to Finn’s chest as he moves. “I missed this.”_

_“Yeah,” Finn agrees. “Ready to be healed up so I can move again.”_

_“You’ll get there. I’ll do the work so you get there faster,” Kurt says, dropping down a little more quickly before raising up. “I love how you feel.”_

_“Love you around me,” Finn says. His hands slide to Kurt’s hips, holding them loosely._

_“Can you keep your shoulders still if you move your hips?”_

_“I can try,” Finn says. He lifts his hips, keeping his shoulders flush against the bed and letting his arms drop so his hands are lightly resting on Kurt’s thighs again._

_“Yeah,” Kurt says softly, speeding up again. “Oh my God, Finn, you feel so good, I love you.”_

_“Does it count as moving if I put my hand on you?” Finn asks._

_“Let’s say it doesn’t,” Kurt says._

_Finn wraps his hand around Kurt’s cock, resting his arm against his own stomach to keep pressure off his shoulder. Kurt shifts his weight, pressing his cock into Finn’s hand as he moves up and down on Finn’s cock._

_“Are you close?” Kurt asks softly. “I want you to come.”_

_Finn responds with the deliberate blink and faint head movement that has become his alternative to nodding since his injury. His hand moves faster on Kurt’s cock. Kurt lifts up faster before dropping back down, pushing forward into Finn’s hand, and when he drops down again, he tightens around Finn._

_“I want to feel you, now,” Kurt says._

_Finn’s voice, when he cries out and bucks his hips up, is rougher than it used to be, but still familiar. Kurt feels the now-routine spike of guilt at the sound of Finn’s voice, which is followed immediately by the even larger spike of guilt that he_ likes _the way it sounds and likes that no one else has heard it, not like this, not with Finn naked and responsive. That thought, that he’s the first person to hear it and the only person to hear it, is what makes Kurt come hard in Finn’s hand, Finn still shaking a little under him._

_“Love you,” Finn says._

_Kurt carefully slides to the bed beside Finn, kissing Finn’s arm. “I love you, too. I love you so much. You make me happy.”_

_“Happy as hundred-thousand-dollar couture?” Finn asks, sounding a little dubious, if also hopeful._

_“It didn’t really make me_ happy _,” Kurt tries to explain. “It made me less bored. Less empty-feeling.” He kisses Finn’s arm again. “_ You _in hundred-thousand-dollar couture, that I get to very carefully remove, that would also make me happy.”_

_Finn smiles at Kurt, taking Kurt’s hand in his. “As long as you come by it honestly, I’ll wear it. Deal?”_

_Kurt smiles and squeezes Finn’s hand, putting his head on the pillow next to Finn’s head as he closes his eyes. “Deal.”_


	2. Fanmix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the fanmix for "Study of Horse and Bully" - covers created by Tessisamess

  


[Download this fanmix](https://www.dropbox.com/s/rwryolk0aw1ihoo/Study%20of%20Horse%20and%20Bull.zip?dl=0)

Tracklist:

1\. Run - Air  
2\. Passenger - Lisa Hannigan  
3\. All I Want - Kodaline  
4\. Gold - Imagine Dragons  
5\. Who Are You Really? - Mikky Ekko  
6\. Power & Control - Marina and the Diamonds  
7\. Trust - Neon Trees  
8\. I'm Not Calling You A Liar - Florence + The Machine  
9\. Lie to Me - Sarah Bareilles  
10\. Only You - Matthew Perryman Jones  
11\. siren song - freakish atlantic  
12\. It Never Happened - The National  
13\. The Secret - The Airborne Toxic Event


End file.
